I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You
by ToryTigress92
Summary: On her sixteenth birthday, Hermione receives strange visions and a heritage she never knew she possessed and Lord Voldemort will discover the one woman who can save his soul. Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger. Set during OOTP and the DH.
1. Dreams Of Another Life

**I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You**

**Hi, my name is…well actually my name is kind of written above so I'm not even going to bother telling it to you. This is my first ever Tom Riddle/Hermione fanfiction, although I suppose it could be considered Voldemort as well. Whenever I read the books, I always felt that Tom was quite a tragic character, with so much potential, that was never allowed to truly shine. The idea of him being unable to understand love because he was conceived beneath the influence of a love potion struck a chord with me, but I never felt he was truly beyond redemption. He just needed someone patient and stubborn enough to teach him the error of his ways, despite whatever superior, typically arrogant views he might have to the contrary. Enter Hermione.**

**I've been a fan of Tom/Hermione for not very long, but one common denominator I noticed with almost every story was the use of time travel, either through the Time Turner medium or another alternative one. Now don't get me wrong, some of my favourite stories were time travel ones (Have You Ever and Masters of Manipulation) but this little niggle of an idea caught me when I was re-watching the Francis Ford Coppola version of Dracula, with Mina as his reincarnated love. So sit back and enjoy the emotional rollercoaster, as I add a base of reincarnated love, a dash of Hogwarts canon, a sprinkling of Founders history, and a generous helping of all our favourite characters….**

**Tom: Princess, stop going off on a tangent and focus your mind to the task at hand, please? Before we die of old age!**

**Me: You, die of old age? That'll be the day! You're making me write this bloody fanfiction, so just pipe down and suck it up, Snake-boy!**

**Tom: (some low grumbling)**

**Tom's my muse by the way and a bloody annoying one at that!**

**Tom: You know you love me, really, Princess. (Plants a sneaky kiss on my carotid artery)**

**Me: You sonofa-!**

**Tom: Now, now, now no swearing. **

**I hate it when he uses Legilimency, the sneaky, no-good, arrogant, domineering…**

**Tom: Princess, your mind's wandering again. Now stop typing this rubbish and start writing my latest idea…. (another kiss the all too sure of himself Slytherin) and maybe you might actually get some…..**

**Me: You did NOT just go there! Silencio! Finally some peace and quiet. Don't tell Mr- I'm-Always-Right-About-Everything-Over-There, but I really should get on with the story before I drive you all away with our little spats. TOM!**

**Tom: You really need to work on countering non-verbal spells, dearest. (Leans towards me seductively). Now let's start using that incredibly creative and ingenious brain of yours and let the magic flow!**

**Me: You and your godforsaken charm! (Tom starts to gently kiss up and down my neck) Fine, fine have it your way, you, you…..Slytherin!**

**Tom: And that's supposed to be an insult?**

**Me: God I hate you sometimes….**

**Tom: No you don't.**

**Yes I do**

**Tom: No you don't.**

**Thomas Marvolo Riddle, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!**

* * *

"G'night Hermione!" Ron yelled as Hermione left the Gryffindor common room.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry called, as the door of the girls' dormitory shut gently. Inside the thankfully darkened room, a slender brunette stretched, yawning, as she stumbled towards her bed carrying the presents her two best friends had given her for her sixteenth birthday. For indeed, this was Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch and the most intelligent student of her generation.

A shaft of moonlight bisected her serious, gentle face as it streamed in through the open casement, making her wildly curling hair gleam silver. By Merlin she was tired!

Turning to her bed, she put her presents away. Harry had gotten her an exceedingly interesting book on the correlation of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes in conjunction to Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was perfectly fascinating; even though she had a sneaking suspicion Harry didn't have a clue as to what the title meant. He probably just picked up the thickest book in the shop that was written in English. Not that it would have mattered; Hermione could read Latin and French fluently as well. She figured it might come in handy with all the rubbish that toad Umbridge was force-feeding them.

Ron had given her a generous supply of Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, as well as the gift of a lovely hand-knitted scarf from Mr and Mrs Weasley. The owl had arrived with assorted goodies from the Order; a new Eagle feather quill from Remus, more sweets from Ginny, a set of books on advanced Charms from Tonks, and another set of books from Sirius all to do with Wizarding history and the four Founders of Hogwarts. She certainly wouldn't run out of reading material this year! And lastly, she had received an assortment of Fred and George's latest joke shop inventions, to her slight disapproval. But who knew when they would come in handy.

Hermione's lips quirked wryly at the 'when' in that last thought. Her school life had never been boring or uneventful, and she doubted this year would be any different. Stretching tiredly, she slipped out of her school uniform and into bed, closing her eyes thankfully. She had gotten all her homework done; yes the Arithmancy assignment was done, and the Potions essay finished. Flitwick's essay on the finer points of the simultaneous casting of Extinguishing and Summoning spells was ready…..

The cogs of her mind still whirring, Hermione fell into slumber.

* * *

_Phyllida Raven smirked wryly as, for the fifth time in a row, her hand shot up at the exact same time as a certain, dark-haired young Slytherin sitting on the opposite side of the room. Eying him contemptuously, she waited for the Professor to indicate to her. _

"_Miss Raven, if you will. What are the exact origins of the Animaverrus Spell?" Professor Dumbledore asked, a twinkle in his ancient blue eyes as he regarded the two hands waiting in front of him._

"_Sir, the Animaverrus spell was invented in 1746 by one Anika Burke, to transfigure animate beings into a totally random state of inanimate object. It must be pronounced non-verbally. It is therefore quite dangerous, both to cast and to undo, due to the unstable nature of the spell and its dependency upon the mental power of the caster, unless the exact counter-curse is performed correctly." Phyllida answered promptly, smirking when she saw the dark looks from the Slytherin benches. Dumbledore beamed._

"_Well, someone has been doing their homework. Ten points to Ravenclaw, Miss Raven. Tom, what are the specific wand movements for this spell?" he turned to the Slytherin._

_Tom Riddle straightened, took out his wand and demonstrated the tricky series of flicks and rotations needed to perform the spell. Phyllida rolled her eyes at the superior attitude of the Prefect, yawning theatrically behind Dumbledore's back._

"_Excellent, Tom. Ten points to Slytherin. Now if I may have volunteers for this spell? Ahh yes, Miss Raven and Mr Riddle I think. Step up and let's see what you make of this spell," Dumbledore magically cleared a space for them, as the pair stood up and walked into the centre of the classroom, conjuring two monkeys from their cages and into the space provided. Phyllida could've sworn she saw a mischievous twinkle in the old man's eyes as she passed him to stand next to Tom. She shuddered, a movement she suppressed immediately at being so close to the Slytherin she loathed._

"_Remember you two, that to cast this spell on an animate being such as these is extremely difficult, let alone the non-verbal nature of the spell. Fifty points will be awarded to the first to complete the spell," Dumbledore stepped away with a flourish of his robes, as the chattering of the classroom dulled down, all eyes on the two teenagers._

_Phyllida faced her monkey, keeping an eye on Riddle out of the corner of her vision. His typically arrogant face was blank, cool, calm and collected, but his brilliant eyes bored into hers. They seemed to mock her, doubting her ability to even hold a wand, let alone cast a spell from the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Setting her jaw, she shrugged off the enmity she could feel emanating from him, and concentrated._

_Their hands moved as one, the thought echoing together in their minds, their power flowing together at the exact same moment._

_Anima Verrus Adiutrix!_

* * *

_Phyllida was a second too slow. She opened her eyes to see her monkey disappear in a flash behind Tom's, both morphing into crystalline vases._

"_Fifty points to Slytherin, and twenty five to Ravenclaw. Well done," Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling._

"_Too slow there, Raven. You really need to speed up," Tom murmured out of the corner of his mouth, smirking triumphantly, as he turned away to walk back to his seat. Sensing Dumbledore turn to the blackboard, she concentrated fiercely._

_Tarantellegra!_

* * *

_Phyllida cast the spell non-verbally, her wand in her pocket, as Riddle's legs spasmed out of control. He tripped and knocked a desk over as she flounced past him, her eyebrows raised._

"_Who's the slow one now, Riddle," she muttered, non-verbally casting the counter curse as she passed, smirking. Riddle's eyes narrowed, sure she had been the cause of the hex, but unable to prove it._

"_Is everything alright, Tom?" Professor Dumbledore asked, as he turned around to face the class. Finally getting his legs back under control, Riddle, slightly red in the face, nodded as he dropped into his seat. "Homework, fourteen inches on the pros and cons of the Animaverrus spell…"_

_Dumbledore's droning voice disappeared in Tom's ears as he glared at the back of Phyllida Raven's brunette head. This rivalry had existed between them ever since their first day at Hogwarts, getting under the other's skin with ease. Despite Tom's effortless skills of intimidation, Phyllida was too hot-tempered to allow him to dominate her, and far too intelligent to submit to him. To the sixteen year old, she was the bane of his life, and Tom Riddle did not like having her there. Despite their mutual enmity, they always sought the other out, eliciting a strange tension between the two of them, making their collective hackles rise, snarling. He had to admit she was close to being his equal in power, much as he hated to do so._

_His gaze fell on the young Ravenclaw's face, waves of unruly brunette hair framing the marblesque skin. Warm brown eyes were intently focussed on the parchment before her, her dark robes swirling around her hourglass figure. He wondered what she was thinking._

"_Legilimens!" he cast beneath his breath, his wand pointed towards her beneath the table. He had quickly become proficient at this form of magic; it was useful in keeping his group of cronies in line when they dared to question Lord Voldemort._

_Phyllida's thoughts ran through his mind, making him smirk._

* * *

Jumped up little git. I don't see what Miranda and the others find to drool over. Honestly, he's not….that handsome. Alright maybe he is, no point lying Phyl, but he's an arrogant, superior, far-too-intelligent, narcissistic, no-good, conceited…

* * *

_Tom's eyebrow quirked. Are you quite finished? _

_He wondered to himself, as he withdrew from her mind, and quickly copied his homework down, snorting derisively. Hardly a challenge._

_As his mind returned to the small matter of Phyllida, he found it strangely satisfying that her thoughts were on him. Suddenly, Phyllida stiffened and swung around in her seat, glaring at him. He looked into her chocolate brown orbs, and felt himself go rigid in shock. She knew he had been in her mind! But how was that possible, he had been as subtle and as gentle as the wind. She couldn't have detected his presence._

_The bell broke their speechless battle of wills, as Phyllida broke eye contact and started flinging her books into her bag, Tom following more slowly. As she turned to walk off, they collided awkwardly, their bodies pressing against one another for a split second. _

_Fire rushed over Phyllida's nerves before she remembered who she was stuck against, and she flung away haughtily._

"_Think you're so clever, don't you, Raven?" Tom inquired quietly, his tone derisive, hiding his own unease at his physical reaction to her. "It's not a fitting testament to your maturity if you seek revenge in such an infantile manner,"_

"_Revenge for what, Riddle?" she asked, one brow raised superciliously._

"_For beating you, of course," he replied, with a wide smile. She narrowed her eyes, drawing herself up proudly._

"_At least I don't think it necessary to poke around in people's minds, Riddle. Sad little boy," she muttered, trying to move past him. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back._

"_What?" he demanded, one perfect brow raised arrogantly. Phyllida smirked back, watching him closely. He really shouldn't have tried to use Legilimency on her._

"_A door, once opened, can be stepped through in either direction," she murmured. Tom's already pale face blanched slightly. She had looked into his mind, without him even realising it! He had been foolish, to let his guard drop. He'd called her his equal; she had sensed his presence. It was his own fault._

"_Then you'd better make sure you don't step through it again," he murmured back, his tone low, dangerous. It sent shivers down Phyllida's spine, yet they were not of fear. Now she realised why they had never touched in the six years they had attended Hogwarts._

"_Unhand me, Slytherin," she growled, her eyes flashing. She wanted nothing more to get away from him, before she punched him, or did something rash. Tom's grip on her arm tightened in the deserted classroom, as he pulled her close to whisper in her ear. Her lungs seized, her skin extra-sensitive where his cool breath swept over the silk._

_Tom felt the hair beneath his cheek, and found himself relishing its softness. It was like cool silk, vibrant and as untameable as the girl he was holding. He smirked, feeling her discomfort, nothing to the sensation spreading over his skin._

"_I'll see you at the Prefects' meeting, Phyllida," he deliberately used her first name, drawing the syllables out, an unconscious note of sensuality dripping into his words. He felt her shiver, knew it was against her will, as she tore herself from his grip and marched away, her back unbending and rigid._

_Tom's smirk deepened. This could prove very interesting._

* * *

Hermione Granger awoke, breathing heavily, the coolness of the unknown boy's breath on her cheek sending shivers down her spine. Gasping for breath, she looked towards the clock and saw the time. And groaned feelingly. It was four in the morning. Muttering to herself, she turned over and went back to sleep.

* * *

_Once outside the classroom, Phyllida slumped against the wall in an alcove, breathing hard. The arrogant little…_

_Footsteps outside her hiding place alerted her to her danger, as Riddle stopped before her, still smirking. Drawing herself up, knowing she was standing in a deserted corridor, with Riddle, wandless with no one to call for help. After she had humiliated him, and delved, without permission into his mind. _But he did it first, the arrogant, presumptuous, far-too-handsome…..!

"_So you do think I'm handsome," Tom muttered, stepping close. Phyllida's breath hitched, as he reached out one hand. "It's not very safe for you to be hiding in dark corners, Phyllida. Very dangerous, in fact, considering I have your little humiliation to pay back."_

"_Go to hell, Riddle," Phyllida snarled, trapped, but still defiant._

"_All in good time, Phyllida," he murmured, smiling predatorily. Suddenly he was far too close for comfort, a strange hunger flaring in his dark eyes, making her lips throb. Tom leaned in-_

_The sound of voices reached them, as footsteps neared. The boy holding Phyllida captive sighed, as he stepped back and released her. She glanced at him in triumph, until she saw the flames in his eyes. She gulped; as he snared her wrist and raised it to his lips, urbanely charming and yet threatening as a prowling Manticore. Hard lips pressed against her pulse, making it jump, her lungs seizing. With a triumphant smirk, he stepped back._

"_Until later, Phyllida," he murmured before he left her, shaking and confused in the alcove._

* * *

**Me: There, happy now?**

**Tom: It'll do.**

**Me: Everyone's a critic. Go slither off, Snake-boy.**

**Tom: (Again being very annoying and placing a kiss beneath my ear) Now we both know you don't want that, dearest. **

**Me: You and your godforsaken-**

**Tom: You said that already. Shows how high your IQ is if you can't even come up with new insults and snarky remarks.**

**Me: Says the idiot who gave his precious diary to Lucius Malfoy. Not your smartest move, 'darling'.**

**Tom: Don't rub it in, or…..**

**Me: Or what? You'll hiss at me? (Snorts derisively) You're rubbish at the whole' intimidate and threaten a person' thi-**

**(Author shuts up due to the fact she is slightly busy at the moment)**

**Tom: I don't need to threaten you, Princess. You're way too easy to shut up.**

**Me: Oh, go screw yourself, Riddle.**

**Tom: I don't need to. I've got you for that.**

**Me: Men…**

**Please R&R! I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, bar Phyllida Raven, or any of its associated trademarks. I do own the plotline however.**

**With the plotline, in case there is any confusion, Hermione is dreaming she is Phyllida Raven, which she is, or used to be, if you catch my drift.**

**Tom: Don't give everything away!**

**RIDDLE, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!**

**Please R&R! **


	2. Dream Kiss

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**Ok, chapter 2 is up.**

**Tom: Took you long enough.**

**Me: What did I tell you about using Legilimency, Tom? Can't take him anywhere. So anyway here's chapter 2.**

* * *

It was a week after Hermione's birthday, and she was meditatively brushing her long, unruly hair, her mind miles away for once. They lingered on the strange dream she'd had on her birthday. What had that been? Surely she was too old for such babyish fantasies. But the boy in the dream had seemed so…familiar. What had been his name again?

A sudden tapping sounded at her window, making the sixteen year old jump, dropping her brush. She crossed to the latch and opened it.

"Hermione? What is it?" Parvati Patil's sleepy voice came from the shadows of her four poster bed. Hermione turned in her direction.

"Nothing, Parvati. Just go back to sleep," she murmured, as her eyes became entranced by the beautiful golden eagle perched outside her dormitory window, a sealed letter dangling from its book. The gentle huff informed her Parvati had done just that.

Her fingers trembling, she stretched her hand out to take the letter, as the eagle fixed her with its beady eye, proudly bowing its head before it took off in a flurry of bronze wings, the moonlight glinting off the golden feathers. She stared after it, before she closed the window against the chilly autumnal wind and crossed back to her bed, the letter clutched close in her hand.

Drawing her curtains, she settled herself in bed, and opened the letter. Damn, it was too dark to make out! Where was her wand?

Hermione looked towards her bedside table, but it wasn't there. Her brow furrowing, she looked around for it until she realised she'd been holding in her hand all along. Strange, she could've sworn she hadn't been holding it before. Shrugging aside the mystery, she turned her attention back to the letter.

"_Lumos_," she muttered, as the gentle light illuminated the parchment. She slit it open and something heavy dropped out from the envelope. She ignored it, concentrating on the script. It was elegant and flowing, and utterly confusing.

_To the recipient of this letter,_

_This will help you to find the light within the dark. It is time, and your power is at last unlocked, my Heiress. Good luck._

_R_

There was nothing else in the letter. Hermione used every Revealing charm she could think of, but there was nothing else concealed in the letter. Remembering the object that had fallen from the envelope, she groped in the darkness for it, but it had gone. Suddenly she felt a strange weight around her neck, beneath her pyjama shirt, and gasped at the feel of cold metal against her skin. Suddenly her eyes fluttered shut and she collapsed back onto the bed, her wand falling from her nerveless hand.

* * *

_Phyllida tried to ignore the dark gaze of the Prefect sitting opposite her. She and the other Prefects were discussing the new patrol rotas in the Head dorms, but Phyllida was finding it hard to concentrate whenever Tom Riddle's gaze returned to her face, eying her with a disgustingly-triumphant smirk. One she wanted to wipe off permanently._

_Her wand hand twitched, as she returned her attention to Carabossa Lestrange, the Head Girl._

"_Phyllida? I want you to take the Tuesday and Thursday patrols, if you don't mind," the seventeen year old raised an eyebrow in question. Phyllida nodded, feeling Tom's eyes on her face again before they flicked to the Head Boy. Abraxas Malfoy cleared his throat and added, "Tom if you could be her patrol partner?"_

"_That's fine, Malfoy," Tom murmured, his brow raised arrogantly. Phyllida glared at him, sure it had been his doing. Anyone with half a brain knew that the sixteen year old Prefect had the cowardly, pathetic excuse for a Head Boy under his thumb._

_Tom smirked at seeing the barely hidden contempt and unease in her eyes. This should prove interesting._

_A few minutes later, Phyllida escaped the suddenly stuffy and suffocating atmosphere of the Head common room, praying she could make it back to her dorm in time. But alas, she wasn't quick enough._

"_Raven, wait!" at the familiar voice behind her, she shuddered and kept walking. But his 6'3 self quickly caught up, taking her arm in a pincer-like grip. "Raven, I was talking to you."_

"_And I chose to ignore you, Riddle. So let go of me, and slither off to whatever hole you came out of," she spat, trying to shrug his grip off, but he was too strong. He swung her into an alcove and against the wall, pinning her there between his hands. Tom just smirked down at the witch in his arms._

"_Now, now, no need to be rude, Phyllida," he murmured, his eyes burning. Fighting back whatever God-forsaken susceptibility had suddenly come over her, Phyllida drew herself up, her chest brushing against his when she exhaled._

"_I don't believe I'd made you free of my name," she muttered, glaring at him for all she was worth._

"_I'm not one to stand on ceremony. Now I believe we have a little something we need to finish from this morning, don't you Phyllida?" Tom whispered conspiratorially, leaning until his warm breath washed over her. Phyllida crushed herself back into the wall, trying to evade him, but another small part of her was yelling at her to yank him down to her by his school tie._

"_Tom…don't, please," she murmured, a pleading note sliding into her voice. The young Slytherin looked down on the girl in his arms, chocolate eyes wide and filled with unease and something else…something nebulous but highly gratifying. She felt the same as he did. She felt the same electrifying rush of power over their skins at their close contact, every time her breast brushed his chest. They were completely hidden from view by his robes, and the shadows of the alcove they stood in. There was no escape._

"_You want this as much as I, my dear," he muttered, teasingly brushing his lips over her cheek, feeling her instinctive shiver with a smile._

"_You may be able to charm and delude yourself and those dolt friends of yours, but you won't succeed with me, 'Tom'," she sneered, trying to hold it together. Tom straightened, smiling down at her._

"_Liar," he murmured, before he flicked away the stray curl hanging over her forehead, and lowered his mouth to hers._

* * *

_Phyllida gasped as his mouth hungrily devoured hers, leaving her no room to breathe, to think or to act. But before she knew it, before she even realised it, she was kissing him back with the same fervour and the same urgency, letting go of the wall behind her to drape her arms around his neck, bringing herself closer to him. His hands dropped to her hips, pulling her forcefully against him, as the electric feeling only intensified, elevated by their proximity, as he angled his head over hers to deepen the embrace._

_His hands left her waist, to slide up her ribcage, caressing the muscles of her back, sliding beneath the school jumper and shirt she wore beneath her robes. It felt like he was branding her, claiming her as his, his touch searing like a flame. She gasped into their joined mouths, pulling herself closer, beginning to writhe in his arms. Abruptly Tom pulled back, breathing heavily, his dark eyes entrancing her own._

"_You're mine, Phyllida," he muttered, before his lips crashed down onto hers again, and she was lost before she could even so much as formulate a reply. She most definitely was not his._

_But any sense of resistance was swept away when he pressed her back against the wall, forcefully taking her mouth, ripping away her senses, his hands freely roaming her body. Phyllida's hands speared through his luxuriant hair, relishing the raven-black strands, as he groaned into her mouth, his kiss becoming even more demanding. Oh God how could she have been so blind to this? She wanted him, had wanted him with every inch of her soul. And he wanted her, she could feel it._

_She truly was lost this time._

* * *

Hermione sat bolt upright, her entire body heaving, as she tried to break free from the tentacles of nightmare. She brushed back a loose tuft of hair, trying to make sense of the nebulous desire thrumming through her body. What had that been?

All she could think about was the feel of Tom's lips on hers, his hands moulding her body, imprisoning her within his arms…wait Tom Riddle?

Fear and disgust replaced the fiery desire as her mind quickly added up the dots. Tom Riddle, the boy Voldemort, was the man in her dream?

A sudden flare of heat through her body had her gasping, as she remembered the events that had transpired before she passed out. Her hand closed over something hot and hard around her neck, glowing a gentle blue colour beneath her fingers. Wait, glowing? Scrambling out of bed, Hermione crossed to a mirror and drew down the collar of her nightwear, gaping at the sight before her. Around her neck was an exquisite sapphire eagle, edged with gold about the size of a knut, hung around her neck on a shimmering rope of gold. It was pulsating with a faint blue glow, lighting up the ceiling above her, as another surge of heat rushed over her body, making it tingle. The letter, where was the letter?

Hermione rushed back to the bed, and searched desperately for the blasted thing, but it had disappeared entirely.

"Damn!" she swore under her breath, as her fingers brushed her wand and nothing else amid the silken covers of her bed. Feeling alert and troubled, Hermione sat down on her bed amid her sleeping classmates, and stared at the wall, the events of the night and her dream replaying through her mind again and again, fingering the exquisite amulet around her neck. Who had sent her that letter and why? Why did they give the necklace to her? And why, in the name of Merlin, was she having dreams about snogging the teenage Lord Voldemort? A second later she groaned, feeling another flash of heat run through her body.

Harry and Ron were going to kill her, if they ever found out.

* * *

**Hope you liked it, and please R&R!**

**Tom: If you don't, I'll Crucio you!**

**Me: Whoa there, Tom. Down boy! No need to start the whole Mr-I-Am-The-Dark-Lord-And-I-Will-Torture-You-Into-Insanity routine.**

**Tom: Can't I use my Basilisk then?**

**Me: No. Jeez he's like a child some days. Anyway please read and review!**

**Tom: Or I will torture you into insanity and then Petrify you with my Basilisk**

**Me: I can't take you anywhere**


	3. The Heiress of Ravenclaw

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

"Homework! Fifteen inches on the Transplanar Energy exchanged during Charms Casting, due next week," Professor Flitwick's voice echoed across the cavernous classroom, making Hermione jolt upright in her seat. Blinking down at her neatly copied notes, she struggled to concentrate.

"Mione?" Harry's gentle jog of her elbow had her turning to him, bringing her mind back to focus. "You ok?"

"I'm fine,"

She wasn't. Her thoughts kept wandering at the most inopportune times; all because of this stupid necklace around her neck and these stupid dreams about Voldemort. She needed time to think, uninterrupted, to research the necklace she now wore. It was fused around her neck; she could never take it off. She was just thankful it had stopped glowing, so it could be easily hidden beneath her school shirt. "I'm going to the library. You coming?" she asked, sure it would have the opposite effect. She was right.

"Errr…..I think I'm gonna do some more Quidditch practice with Ron," he mumbled, already ducking away, dragging the red-head with him.

"Just watch out for Professor Toad-face," Hermione muttered, already packing her bag and turning towards the door. And straight into Draco Malfoy.

"How rude, Mudblood. Didn't anyone teach you not to insult your betters?" he sneered, looking down his greasy nose at her. Hermione's eyes narrowed, an uncharacteristic need to put the pathetic weasel in his place flaring up. Pushing past him haughtily, she headed for the door, talking just loud enough for Malfoy, Harry and Ron to hear.

"Go to hell, Ferret-boy,"

* * *

Hermione breathed in the scent of parchment and books like a heavenly elixir, all her fears and worries dissipating as she entered her sanctum. Nothing could worry her here, amongst her first friends, books. Readjusting her bag, she marched away into the winding corridors of towering tomes, her thoughts wandering as her eyes did the same.

Why did she dream of another life, one that involved a young Lord Voldemort at the beginning of his prime? Who had sent her the necklace and the letter? What did it mean, 'Heiress'? 'Your power is at last unlocked'? What did they mean?

She thought she'd recognised the seal on the back of the letter, but it had burned itself into ashes in the morning. It had been a bronze eagle, wands crossed behind it atop a blooming, wild rose. Whose had it been? Sighing, Hermione dropped her bag beside her favourite table, set back in the library in a shadowy alcove, just outside the Restricted Section. Her mind still whirring, she walked to the nearest Genealogy section and pulled out _A Wizarding Guide to Genealogy_. It was a horrid book, utterly prejudiced, but it might be her only chance to identify the seal on the back of the letter. Plonking the heavy volume down, she flicked it open and began to scan the pages, focussing only on the family seals on each page. This was taking forever.

Hermione sighed impatiently, trying to hold it in, weariness beginning to steal over her.

Oh no you don't, she thought as the necklace began to glow once more, and she felt tiredness set in. She hadn't been sleeping well for days now. She wouldn't give into the urge to slide back into that dream world, and back into Tom Riddle's arms.

Suddenly she turned the page, and the next one blanked out. She blinked; as the text faded away and the seal of the Wizarding family disappeared, the colours bleeding away. A flash of gold, and the seal from the letter appeared, the embossed wild rose, covered by the crossed wands and the eagle, glimmering faintly. Words wrote themselves across the parchment, as Hermione gazed, transfixed.

_The House of Ravenclaw. Your heritage begins here, Miss Granger_

Hermione felt darkness pull at the edges of her vision, as she slumped forward on top of the book.

* * *

_Phyllida was sitting in the library, bent over her books, her glorious hair spread over the parchment, as the waxing moon spilt its sylvan rays over her work, mingling with the golden candlelight. In an act of frustrated impatience, she flicked the trailing locks up and secured them in a messy bun with her quill. It had been a week since Tom Riddle had cornered her outside the Head dorm. A week since he'd kissed her, and she'd realised how much she wanted him. No, needed him. It was a horrible feeling, as if she would die without him. She did not like feeling like this._

_Tears blurring her eyes, she fiddled with the pendant of Ravenclaw under her shirt, her robe, blazer and jumper abandoned beside her on the bench, her tie loosened. Why did she feel like this? Why did she have to lo-_

_Suddenly two warm hands appeared over hers, as a hard body trapped her against the table's edge, a familiar voice speaking in her ear._

"_You've been avoiding me, Phyllida," Tom murmured in her ear, bending his head to plant a kiss in the sensitive hollow below her lobe. Phyllida could only shudder, her neck automatically arching back, granting him access to the rest of her neck, an invitation he didn't hesitate to take advantage of. Finally Phyllida broke free of his spell, tearing her head away. A second later his hand wrenched it back forcefully, so her eyes met his._

"_There's nothing to avoid, Riddle," she spat contemptuously, still fighting the cry of her body, fighting the urge to lean into his embrace._

"_Oh, I'm crushed, Phyllida," he replied, before once again placing seductive kisses down her neck, holding her still in his arms. She shivered, her lids falling, unable to resist. Suddenly she felt his hand slide beneath her loose shirt, and tracing up her torso until it met her breast, possessively studying all he knew was his. Phyllida still resisted the call of her body and his._

"_Stop fighting me, Phyllida. You know you don't want to, dearest," he whispered huskily. "You can't ignore the urges I know are coursing through you."_

"_There's nothing to ignore," she gasped, feeling flame course through her at his touch. His kisses paused, and he seemed to be weighing her words. Maybe he would leave her alone?_

"_Oh no, dearest, I'm not finished with you yet," he snarled in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "I'll show you there's nothing to ignore."_

* * *

_Phyllida was spun around in her seat and pressed against the table edge with a kiss so forceful she felt like her head might snap off. His hands slid under her waist, supporting her, as he pulled her up against him, straddling her on the bench. Gasping, dizzy from the strength of her need, Phyllida could only cling to him, running her hands through his silken hair, ruffling it, as he groaned into her mouth. Suddenly he broke away, panting heavily._

"_What have you done to me?" he murmured against her lips, his deep green eyes alight. _

"_Me? I think the question is what have you done to me, you arrogant, conceited-" Phyllida's incensed reply was cut off by Tom's lips. There was a heady compulsion beneath their kissing now; one that ensured they could not resist. It felt like with every kiss, every hungry touch with which they fed their starving bodies; they felt as the other did. They felt…connected, joined as one mentally and emotionally. For the usually cold Tom, it was both a novel and an unnerving sensation. To discover his feelings for this infuriating, know-it-all, arrogant, tempestuous, stubborn witch…well let's just say Tom Riddle had never felt the like before._

_For Phyllida, she was both entranced and frightened out of her wits, not that any of this punctured her brain through the haze of desire. After six years of pure enmity, she struggled to see a mental picture of them together; as one, as they seemed to be now. _

_Tom's hands gently opened her shirt, his lips wrenching from hers to trail kisses down her neck, over her collarbone until they reached her chest. And stopped._

_Breathless, moaning, Phyllida arched her spine when she felt his fingers caress her neck, until they grazed something hot and heavy against her chest. She jerked, remembering the Pendant of Ravenclaw that she wore; that marked her as Rowena Ravenclaw's Heiress. Her eyes flew to Tom's._

"_Well, well, well, you are full of surprises, Phyllida," he smirked, his eyes fixed on her neck, as he lovingly traced the sapphire eagle. "It was said this was lost thousands of years ago."_

"_Tom, I-"_

"_You're descended from Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Interesting and strangely fitting," Tom smirked, his hand leaving hers to finger the Slytherin snake beneath his shirt. Phyllida's eyes flicked down to them, her eyes wondering, as another flare of heat overtook her body._

* * *

"_You're the Heir of Slytherin? You killed that girl from Hufflepuff?" Phyllida asked, horrified, her passion extinguished as if under a cold shower. Tom shifted atop her, and she gasped, the flames rippling under her skin, and that was all the leverage he needed to capture her mouth again, his hands avidly exploring her body. She tried to fight, but their connection destroyed her resistance, rendering her soft and compliant in his arms. Desperate, she yanked him closer, tearing open his school shirt, just to feel his pale, scolding skin against hers. Tom smirked against her lips as her hands glided beneath the material of his shirt to his back, holding him against her, as he left her mouth to trail open-mouthed caresses down her neck, relishing the silky skin and the warm, throbbing pulse under his tongue. _

_Freed from Tom's seductive, devouring kiss Phyllida could think. There was a very good reason she shouldn't be here, trapped by his body against a desk, prey to their strange, new desire for one another. He… he was the Heir of Slytherin. He'd killed a…a girl. He was a…_

_But Tom's exploration of her body was making it too hard to concentrate. Desire throbbed in her blood, setting her body alight, a deep ache permeating every inch of her skin. She needed him, as she needed to breathe. But the thought gave her strength; frightening her. The emotion, and its resilience, as it rose within her turned her cold._

"_Tom, please-" she began to plead, trying to push him away, but he only raised his head, a darkness in his eyes that was both enthralling and terrifying._

"_Oh, no, you're not wriggling your way out of this one, Phyllida. You're mine," he snarled, before he took her mouth possessively. For a moment, Phyllida responded ardently, until reason took over. She groped for her wand, and concentrated with what little mental aptitude was left to her._

Levicorpus!

_Tom was lifted from her, hanging upside down in mid-air. Flustered, Phyllida rearranged her clothes by magic, smoothing her hair, trying to breathe through the vice locked around her lungs. She could feel his glare on her body, on her face as she packed up her books._

"_Phyllida, let me down!" he growled, his tone low and stormy, warning her. Slowly recovering, she plucked up the courage to face him._

"_I don't think so. And whilst you're hanging there, why don't you cool off?" she replied coldly, hiding her fear and her need under a blanket of calm assurance, similar to the one she'd seen Tom use countless times. "Aguamenti!"_

_Ignoring the spluttering Slytherin as he was doused in cold water, Phyllida turned tail and ran for her life, the image of his furious, desire-darkened eyes promising retribution haunting her all the way back to her Common Room._

* * *

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger!"

At the familiar tones, dreadfully familiar, Hermione awoke from her slumber, shaking off the dream as she looked into the nightmarish countenance of Madam Pince, the librarian. "The Library is closing, Miss Granger. Do you wish that book signed out?"

Confused, Hermione looked down at the book, staring at it, bemused. Why had she picked up this book again? Something to do with-

Oh yes, the sapphire Pendant! Memory returned; as with a flash, Hermione flicked back a few pages to where she'd first seen the Seal from the letter. But it had disappeared. What had it said? _The House of Ravenclaw?_

Ignoring the impatient librarian, Hermione skipped to the index. Where was it, where was R? There!

Eagerly she turned to page 487, her smile growing. It dropped when she noticed the distinct lack of text.

_Ravenclaw, House of_

_An ancient and noble Wizarding family; the last descendants of the House of Ravenclaw were destroyed in 1954, when the eldest daughter of that House was murdered and the only surviving daughter disappeared without a trace._

Was that it? That told her nothing! Feeling as though she wanted to kick something, she grabbed her bag and stomped out the library, past an impatient Madam Pince, and into the deserted school corridors. Now she really was annoyed.

* * *

Somewhere far, far away, Lord Voldemort stood in front of a glass mirror, staring at the reflection of the snivelling man kneeling behind him.

"You have disappointed me, Avery. And Lord Voldemort does not allow disappointment. Crucio!" the man who had once been Tom Riddle smirked sadistically as the cringing man collapsed in pain, screaming hoarsely.

After a few minutes of blissful agony, Tom lifted the curse, looking with disgust at the pathetic creature before him.

"Get out of my sight and be thankful Lord Voldemort was merciful," he murmured, his tone silky and low. It was his most dangerous tone; one his followers had learned to take heed of.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you," the grovelling Death Eater rose shakily to his feet and backed out of the room. The Dark Lord sighed.

Why was he surrounded by utter idiots? A sudden hiss interrupted his thoughts as Nagini slithered in, settling beside her Master. Tom smirked down at the diamond patterned snake.

Suddenly, pain gripped him, so intense and so unexpected, Tom nearly fell. A moment later, he straightened, his gaze fixed on the waxing moon outside. What was that? He had not felt such pain, such connection, such _need_ since….

It couldn't be. She was dead. Long dead.

A table in the room splintered into fragments as the Dark Lord let loose a cry of rage.

* * *

**Please R&R!**

**Tom: You can say it you know.**

**Me: Say what?**

**Tom: That I'm the best muse in the world. I bet you wouldn't have been able to write half as a good a smut scene without my Dark influence.**

**Me: Oh get over yourself! I was writing smut long before you showed up, you….conceited Slytherin!**

**Tom: Again with the insults that aren't really insults! You're losing your touch, dearest.**

**I hate him sometimes.**

**Tom: No you don't, Princess.**

**Me: If you use Legilimency on me one last time, I swear on Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts I will snap your wand. And I'm not just talking about that one. (Points to his yew wand)**

**Tom: (Wincing) No need for that, Princess. You know you wouldn't want me any other way. (Starts being very annoying and placing kisses all the way down my neck)**

**Me: I give up.**

**Tom: Finally.**

**Please R&R!**

**What will happen now Tom senses Phyllida's, or rather her reincarnation's presence?**


	4. Dreams and Nightmares

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

It had been several weeks since Hermione's last dream and she was no further along in finding out anything more about the Pendant or about what had happened to the House of Ravenclaw, or what it had to do with her. Her dreams had ceased; only to be replaced by nightmares.

In them she was lost in a mist, constantly searching for something or someone, whilst running from some presence that sought her out. A malevolent one that called to her with a seductive voice. With every nightmare, the presence seemed to be moving closer. It filled her with a terrible sense of foreboding.

A storm was brewing, and it was coming for her.

* * *

_Hermione was running through the mist, tears of distress running down her face, searching desperately. The walls of towering fog hemmed her in; impenetrable ramparts of silver incandescence facing her at every turn._

_Suddenly a hand grabbed her from behind, and she was spun around to face a skeletal face, with slits for nostrils, eyes glowing red with hatred and evil._

"_Hermione…"_

* * *

"Hermione!"

The shout had Hermione sitting bolt upright in her bed, facing the worried face of Parvati Patil.

"Wha…what is it?" she asked, groggily holding her head, her head throbbing. Underneath her pyjama shirt, the Pendant of Ravenclaw shimmered, an inner azure glow lighting up the faceted gem.

"You were kinda moaning in your sleep. Crying out and stuff. We were getting worried," the Asian girl motioned to the three other girls behind her, all sitting up in their beds, looking concerned and slightly fearful. Hermione wondered vaguely if this was what Harry felt like after he woke up from one of his dreams about Voldemort.

"I-I'm fine. Just a nightmare, go back to sleep," she assured them, plastering a fake smile on her lips.

"If you're ok?" Parvati said, uncertainly.

"I'm fine, Parvati," Hermione insisted firmly. With a nod, Parvati extinguished the light and got back into bed. Turning over, Hermione relaxed back into hers, her mind whirring.

Should she tell someone about these dreams? If they were about Voldemort, maybe she should tell Harry and Ron, if not Dumbledore. But how? What could she say?

Hi Harry, I've been having these freaky dreams about Voldemort where I was a pure-blood witch who was snogging him.

Oh no problem, Hermione, it's just a dream. It's perfectly natural to dream about that sort of thing.

Yeah right.

Hermione's rational side insisted they would think her out of her mind if she told them about the dreams. Particularly those dreams, the ones that had her waking up all but quivering with a desire that could never be sated. But what about the Pendant? Shouldn't she at least tell someone about that? Someone was going to notice sooner or later. Maybe she should tell Dumbledore. Yes she would tell him, and he would help her understand more before the Christmas holidays started. She'd almost forgotten them in the rush of the past weeks. The formation of the DA, Harry's own problems with that toad Umbridge, and the pressure of impending exams had only added to her fatigue. The DA had broken up that night; it was going so well. Neville had actually managed to Disarm someone.

Reminiscing fondly, Hermione let the weariness of her mind drag her back into sleep, the light of the full moon outside washing over her face. Unbeknownst to her, the Pendant of Ravenclaw flared a bright blue against her skin, sensing the mental presence of its counterpart's owner in the Castle.

* * *

_Phyllida ran along the sixth floor corridor, trying desperately to stay ahead of the one person she really didn't want to see right at that moment. Tom Riddle._

_He had become the bane of her life, ever since that stupid prank in Transfiguration and now he wouldn't leave her alone. It had been four days since they had all but made passionate love on one of the library desks, and she had been avoiding him steadfastly. She was quick and agile, able to slide away from him in crowds, and always making sure she was surrounded by her friends, whether in class or in the corridors. She never went anywhere alone. She couldn't; to do otherwise was to risk running into _him_ again. And she knew he would want retribution for her escape in the library, and Phyllida had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't be able to resist him again. He made her feel so…alive, so needed, so desired, yet it felt so forced at times. As if they had no other choice. As if they were bound together._

_Phyllida knew her birthright, knew that her connection to the Heir of Slytherin would only make it worse, but she had to resist. She would not become his._

_All around her, her friends were happily chatting about the annual Christmas gathering in the Great Hall, a tradition Professor Dippet had begun and enforced every year of his tenure as Headmaster. They were ecstatic; gossiping about gowns and dates until the sun set. Rumour had it that this year's festivities were to be a masquerade. Phyllida inwardly groaned at the thought. Great, yet another chance for Tom to catch up with her. _

_As the thought flashed through her mind, she realised she'd walked into a deserted corridor, her friends disappeared. It was eerily empty; not even a mouse squeaked or a robe swished in the distance. What the hell?_

_Phyllida turned abruptly, almost running back to the corridor she had been in, when as she turned the corner, she came face to face with Tom Marvolo Riddle. _

_The Prefect was stood a few feet away, gleaming raven hair perfectly parted down the middle, his immaculate school uniform and shining badge making him look so ordinary. So innocuous._

_Until one reached the eyes. Flickering orbs of brilliant green, greener than the Slytherin tie around his neck, but flecks of red and black shone within them, radiating the intense hunger within his soul. Hunger for her._

_Dangerous, that was what her intelligent mind labelled him. Unconsciously Phyllida began to back away, her eyes never leaving his. The bird entranced before the snake._

* * *

_Slowly he began to take a few steps forward, stalking her unyieldingly, his eyes fixed on her face. The Pendant of Ravenclaw sent a flare of heat down her spine, making her gasp. Tom smirked._

"_Pleased to see me, Phyllida?" he asked, enjoying the combination of fear and yearning in her heart-shaped face, her unruly hair tumbling around her shoulders, chocolate brown eyes alight, on fire. They made even him, the oh-so-controlled Heir of Slytherin, shudder with desire and pure need. He needed her, like he needed no one else. She was his one weakness, one he would see dealt with, one way or the other. He stretched out one hand to touch her silky soft hair, Phyllida's eyes fixed on his when the bell rung and classes were dismissed. Cursing, he withdrew his hand and slipped away without looking back, as Phyllida watched him go with a heavy heart._

* * *

_This routine went on for several days, Tom cornering Phyllida alone, and being interrupted. She was aware of his mounting frustration, his growing need every time she felt his eyes on her in class, or at mealtimes in the Great Hall. The Christmas Masquerade was only a few days away._

_"Phyl? Tom's watching you again," Aurora, a close friend of Phyllida's, nudged her in the side at breakfast one morning. She refused to look up, refused to make eye contact with the reprobate across the Great Hall, merely nodding. "Think he's going to ask you to the Masquerade?"_

"_I hope not. I can't stand him," she replied vehemently. Aurora looked away, nonplussed, remembering the charged looks and the air of simmering emotion that had surrounded the two of them for weeks. Somehow she doubted Phyllida's assertion was true. Maybe the girl was denying her feelings?_

"_I seriously doubt that, Phyl. I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one's watching," Aurora remarked casually, watching her friend out the corner of her eye. Sure enough, Phyllida almost spilled pumpkin juice everywhere. "And I've seen the way he looks at you too."_

"_Aurora, there is nothing between us…" Phyllida trailed off when she felt cool fingers trail across her exposed neck, as she stared blindly into space. Flames rose under her skin, as her breath hitched, as she swung around to face the amused and triumphant eyes of Tom Riddle._

"_Good morning, Phyllida," he murmured before turning in a swirl of robes and walking gracefully from the Hall. Aurora saw the flustered look on her friend's face, noted the blush and the shallow breathing and smirked._

"_Sure there isn't anything between you, Phyllida," she muttered, sending her friend an amused glance. "He'd better hurry up and ask you to the masquerade, before someone else does."_

"_What?" Phyllida snapped out of her trance, and focussed on Aurora's worried face._

"_The masquerade. He is definitely going to ask you, I can see it," she replied, turning away to rummage in her bag, wondering what on earth was wrong with her friend. Tom Riddle was a bit…odd, but he was as handsome as a fallen angel. Phyllida had captured his attention, and she was crazy not to reciprocate it. Or to deny she reciprocated it, anyway. Although it was a bit odd, after so many years of the two of them sniping and competing with each other, that they suddenly discovered amorous feelings toward one another._

_Phyllida's body was filled with dread, chasing away the pleasant frissons of desire that Tom's touch had evoked. If he asked her to the masquerade, if he initiated a continuance of their relationship, in that kind of atmosphere, she definitely couldn't resist him. He was a murderer, the Heir of Slytherin. He had opened the Chamber of Secrets and killed a girl, purely because of her bloodline. He had framed an innocent boy for the crime. He was…_

"_Phyllida?"_

_At the sound of her name, Phyllida looked up, startled. In front of her stood Cassius Malfoy, a cousin of Abraxas. Generally thought good-looking with his long platinum hair and aristocratic features, he'd never really appealed to Phyllida. She wondered what he wanted._

"_I was just wondering…well hoping actually that you would go to the masquerade with me?" he asked, a confident smile on his thin lips. Phyllida jerked surprised. But maybe this would work to her advantage. If she went with Cassius, Tom couldn't ask her._

"_Sure, I'll go with you, Cassius," she smiled falsely, feeling her heart sink._

* * *

_Phyllida hurried out of Charms, glad that she had a free period. After the events of breakfast she needed some peace and quiet. Aurora had only shot her a disgusted glance when she found out Phyllida was going with Cassius. She felt bad enough as it was; she didn't like Cassius at all. She wanted Tom._

_Over the past few days, Cassius had grown overly possessive of Phyllida, particularly at breakfast, as if she were some trophy he had won. She wasn't his, she wasn't anyone's. Only a few hours were left before the Masquerade. Only a few hours left in this farce._

_Phyllida was so immersed in her thoughts, she wasn't aware she was even being followed. Suddenly a hand gripped her elbow and she was propelled around the corner of the corridor and into an alcove. Not given any time to fight, she was spun around and backed against the wall, her lips instantly covered by Tom's hungry, needy ones. His mouth was angry, furious, not giving her any room to think._

_Her wits were ripped away in a storm of passion, her own need building past break point. She dropped her bag and pulled him closer, returning his passion, running her hands through his hair. Tom seized her wrists, extricated her hands from his hair, and forced them up above her head, wrenching from her lips._

"_Why must you make things so difficult, Phyllida?" he asked, solemn and dark, his eyes glittering. "Why do you run from me?"_

"_I'm not running from you, Tom. I'm not afraid of you," Phyllida breathed out, yearning for his lips, her gaze fixed on them._

"_Oh aren't you? Then why are you going to the masquerade with Malfoy?" Tom asked, seemingly unconcerned, but she sensed a building anger and a possessive fury underneath his façade. _

"_He asked me, I accepted. Pure and simple," Phyllida groaned out through gritted teeth._

"_And now you're his," was the bleak statement. Phyllida bristled, or as much as she was able to whilst trapped against the wall._

"_I belong to no one, least of all Malfoy," she snarled._

"_You belong to me," Tom growled back, his head lowering to hers._

"_No-" Phyllida's protest was cut off abruptly, as Tom released her wrists and took her mouth viciously._

Yes.

_The single word was spoken directly into her mind, and she knew he'd used Legilimency. Unable to fight what her body seemed so determined to prove, she pulled him closer, her senses following his hands as they traced down her waist and her legs, pulling her closer to him. A moment later her feet left the floor and she was trapped between his body and the floor, writhing under his touch, a deep ache filling her body. She wanted him, now._

_The bell rang abruptly, and Tom slowly left her mouth, staring at each other, panting heavily. The sounds of chair legs scraping the floor and footsteps in the classrooms filled the air, student chatter rising in a cacophony of noise. Reluctantly Tom let Phyllida down, both still gasping for breath. She avoided his gaze, fussing with her robes, until he spoke up._

"_Phyllida…"_

_She looked up and froze. He stretched out his hand and gently, reverently stroked the contours of her face, trailing down her jaw. Phyllida couldn't fight it; her lids fell as Tom leaned in to kiss her, oh-so-gently. A second later he was gone, his whisper echoing in her head._

See you at the masquerade, Phyllida…


	5. The Christmas Masquerade

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

In the Gryffindor girls' dorm, the full moon shone in on five girls, all asleep and at peace. All except one.

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed, moaning and arching, her breath coming short with remembered desire, the Pendant of Ravenclaw shining on her breast.

* * *

Tom stared out at the full moon from the Riddle mansion. The glass reflected his snow-white skin and bald head, his snake-like face glaring sardonically back at him as memories, long repressed, broke free.

Memories of the night he made Phyllida Raven irrevocably his.

The need and the desire stirred in his chest, potent and strong after so long buried, that it almost shocked him. But when it came to the bond he knew existed between the Heir of Slytherin and the Heiress of Ravenclaw, it was stronger than anything. Even stronger than death.

He knew what it meant. A new Heiress had been born and been chosen. She had received her power. And he would find her. Soon.

Smirking, Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort stared out at the full moon above.

* * *

_Phyllida stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't recognise the woman staring back at her. What was she doing?_

_Phyllida's long, usually bushy, brown hair was smoothed by a Anti-Frizz charm, swept up into an elegant up-do, a gold star-shaped flower tucked into the crease of her hair. The candlelight made her pale skin gleam like alabaster, glinting off the polished sapphire of Ravenclaw. Hastily, she tucked it beneath the bodice of her gown._

_Her gown was a creation of white silk, draping her figure elegantly. The bodice clung to her hourglass torso; the ruched neckline only just revealing the upper swell of her breasts, the short sleeves starting off her shoulder. White voile was draped across the top of her bodice and sleeves, so it appeared her collarbone was rising out of ocean foam. The skirt gathered from her narrow waist, falling down like a waterfall, the combination of white voile and silk embroidered in tiny gold flowers, shining like gilt. But it was the back that had Phyllida mentally gulping; the back dipped down in a graceful U-shape until it finished just after her shoulder blades ended . She would be lucky if Dippet didn't expel her for indecency. Apart from a gold bracelet around her wrist, she wore no jewellery. A plain gold half-mask finished her ensemble._

_Despite the fact she couldn't deny how beautiful she looked, Phyllida couldn't look forward to the night ahead. It would be nothing but a farce. Turning around with a soft sigh, she picked up her white domino. Honestly, she didn't know what the point of dressing up was if it was going to be covered by cloaks. At least until the unmasking at midnight. She swirled the domino around her shoulders, and flicked the hood up._

* * *

"_Phyl?" Aurora's gentle murmur had her turning to the door. The picturesque Ravenclaw, with her golden hair and slender figure was shown to perfection in bright scarlet satin overlaid by black embroidery, a rose in her long, freely tumbling locks. She wore a black domino, the hood not yet up, a black mask covering her features. "You look beautiful. He's going to be swept away."_

_Phyllida wondered who Aurora meant; Cassius or Tom. Suddenly she noticed that Aurora carried something under her arm, as well as the silver aster around her neck._

"_Who gave that to you?" she asked curiously. Aurora smirked._

"_My date," she explained vaguely, with a mysterious smile. She walked forward and held her box under her arm out to Phyllida. "This is for you."_

"_Who from?" Phyllida asked, mentally groaning. She hoped it wasn't from Cassius, although the extravagant silver aster around Aurora's neck was more his style._

"_An admirer," she said, with a sly smirk. Phyllida didn't notice the glint in Aurora's eyes as she fingered the aster around her neck, just groaned. She did not need gifts from Cassius. "Open it, Phyl. It's to help identify you so he can find you."_

_Sighing heavily, she opened the box and gasped. Loudly._

_Inside, nestled on emerald silk was a perfect golden rose, flecked with tiny emeralds. It was subtle and exquisite, without being ostentatious. As she touched it, she felt the traces of magic upon it. This had been created by magic. Cassius surely wasn't talented enough but then who…?_

_Tom._

_Only Tom would have the talent and the audacity to mark her as his with something like this. Suddenly hearing a hiss, she peered closer at the ornate rose and glimpsed a tiny serpent hiding amid the petals. Yes, definitely Tom._

"_Well don't stand there gawking at it. Come here," Aurora snatched up the rose and slid it into place behind Phyllida's ear. It stood out against the white and gold of her attire but didn't clash. It was perfect. Her luscious hair hidden by the hood of her domino, Phyllida took a deep breath and walked to Aurora's side. Her friend flicked her hood up, completely hiding her glorious golden curls and together they walked out of the Ravenclaw dormitory._

* * *

_- The Entrance hall was bustling and crowded as the two girls made their way down the stairs, their eyes searching the brightly coloured mass of students and teachers below. Phyllida instantly noticed Professors Dippet, Dumbledore and Slughorn conversing good-naturedly in dominos of differing hues. Dippet's was of a plain blue colour, whereas Dumbledore's was a bright red, embroidered with gold; the colours of Gryffindor. Slughorn looked like an over-inflated pea in robes of bottle green. Ignoring the loud outbursts of laughter and the calls of boys and girls as they searched for their dates, Phyllida followed Aurora through the crowd and into the Great Hall._

_It was like a fantasy winter wonderland. The enchanted ceiling was dropping glittering snow flakes on the masquerade below, evaporating before they hit the dance floor, which sparkled like it was encrusted in diamonds. Round tables draped in silver and white damask littered the rest of the room, the House tables disappeared for one night. Silver drapes covered the walls, looking like polished walls of steel, yet they shimmered gently in the gentle lighting from the chandeliers. The orchestra was assembled in a corner, already tuning up, charmed to play by themselves without musicians._

_Phyllida and Aurora mixed with the crowd, searching for their dates, Phyllida keeping an eye out for Tom, just in case, but soon a gentle tune began to play and the Head Boy and Girl took the floor to open the masquerade. The two Ravenclaws stood side by side, as the two Slytherins revolved on the floor, a diamante mist beginning to fill the room. Phyllida was just about to give up looking for Cassius, or Tom, when Aurora, who had been looking at something across the floor, pulled her onto it. She saw the girl pull aside the edges of her domino, making sure the silver aster was visible. Suddenly a tall boy in a black domino approached them and appropriated Aurora's hand. She sent Phyllida a warning glance as the unknown male spoke._

"_At last, Phyllida. Let us dance," Cassius smirked, as he turned Aurora away, and she caught a glimpse of platinum blonde beneath his hood. Her jaw dropping, she watched as Aurora winked at her and sauntered off. Suddenly the concealed Pendant of Ravenclaw sent a flare of heat rushing through her, as the crowd on the dance floor began to separate into pairs, ready for the next dance. She spun, shivering, to face a man walking-no stalking- across the floor, every inch a predator in a black suit and dark green robes, his hood up, but she could see the gleam of brilliant green eyes behind a black and gilt mask. Her breath caught as he walked right up to her and slid his hands beneath her domino, around her waist, pulling her full against him._

* * *

"_Phyllida…" the three syllables of her name sent shivers down her spine as they vibrated against her lips. Tom, for it was he, pressed a light kiss on her, torturing her. As she stretched up in his arms, needing more, he raised his head with a gentle smile._

"_No, Phyllida. There'll be plenty of time for that later," he whispered, as the floor cleared for the next dance. "Shall we?"_

_Phyllida, quivering inside from desire and annoyance at his arrogant interruption of her date, had no choice but to take his hand as he whirled her into his arms._

_The dance was similar to a fifteenth century Volta, with the woman being led by the man, as he lifted her into the air, both hands around her waist, before following a complicated series of steps similar to a waltz. Phyllida had been trained in dance since her earliest years; she knew the steps backwards. But she also knew the subtle nuances of the dance; traditionally it was a dance of seduction. She was surprised Dippet had allowed it._

_The music, played upon a harp and a violin, was heavy and seductive, slow and sensual, allowing for the manoeuvres of the dance. Tom effortlessly hefted Phyllida into the first lift, bringing her down slowly, so she was pressed against his chest, sliding it down with an unbearable friction. Her body ached from that one embrace of body to body, her hands gripping his surprisingly powerful forearms, as he spun her, until her back was to him, her hood falling down in the process. He pressed a kiss to her neck, his body shifting against hers, before he spun her away and back, their torsos colliding. Phyllida gasped, her lids falling, until Tom lifted her into the air again, setting her slowly back onto the floor. They maintained eye contact the entire time; Phyllida had never felt so possessed, so physically manipulated. Like she was his._

"_That's because you are, sweetheart," Tom whispered, when her eyes were level with his. Phyllida narrowed her eyes at his use of Legilimency, and opened her mouth. Tom cut her off, kissing her thoroughly, whilst pushing her backwards into a dip. When his lips were wrenched from hers by their position, she recovered enough to wonder at his behaviour. On a crowded dance floor, surrounded by students and professors, they were behaving very inappropriately. She was surprised Dippet hadn't come marching across to demand they cease acting so shamelessly. Or to demand Tom stopped acting so shamelessly; Phyllida couldn't really do anything to stop him._

"_Look around, Phyllida. In this mist not many people can see enough to start gossiping," Tom interrupted her thoughts as they swirled into a hold and waltzed, the section of lifts over, for the moment. He was right; the diamante mist was so thick she was having trouble seeing anyone at that precise moment in time. But it was still so scandalous._

_Tom's smirk grew as he twirled her, holding her until her back was to his torso, held securely in his arms, unable to escape. Precisely where she belonged. Phyllida shivered._

"_But that's precisely why you love it so much," he remarked in reply to her thoughts, his lips tracing the whorl of her ear. "You look so beautiful tonight."_

"_Thank you, Tom. I take it the rose was your doing?" Phyllida gathered enough breath to ask, as they paused, she still in his arms._

"_Who else?" he asked, his hot breath huffing gently against her neck, as Phyllida couldn't resist arching her neck back against him. He chuckled at her obvious desire for contact._

"_Is there any point in upbraiding you for so arrogantly disrupting my evening?" she asked, one fine eyebrow raised haughtily. _

"_None whatsoever. You know I can't help myself," he whispered into her ear. Her lips quirked. "Your friend Aurora seems to be having a good time."_

_She followed his gaze, frowning slightly as the mist cleared for a moment, and she saw Aurora dancing with Cassius, smirking as they revolved. He clearly hadn't discovered that 'Phyllida' wasn't who he thought she was. Her eyes narrowing, she flicked a glance over her shoulder and saw the supremely satisfied expression on Tom's face. Her jaw dropped._

"_You planned this with Aurora, didn't you?" she demanded. In answer Tom merely spun her to face him, whirling her into a spin that took her breath away. By the time the room had stopped spinning, Phyllida was too busy trying to catch her breath to argue anymore. Her mind noted the change in tempo, as the music flowed, and the next section of lifts came. Her eyes met Tom's, his twinkling devilishly, as he lifted her so easily. Phyllida felt like her knees were going to fold, insidious shivers making their way down her spine._

_Tom noticed them, smiling smugly. She was so nearly his. When he next lowered her, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear._

"_Give in to me, Phyllida,"_

_She shivered, as she looked into his eyes. "Why?"_

"_Because you want to. And I want you to. Just give yourself to me," he whispered, his voice a low growl, husky and seductive. He was some dark predator, luring her into his claws. Phyllida felt need begin to rise, the Pendant of Ravenclaw glowing beneath her bodice, hidden by the folds of her domino. Her breath hitched; Tom pressed his advantage. "Please, Phyllida."_

"_You're impossible, you know that," Phyllida regarded him with a slow smile, fondly shaking her head. Inside she was torn; an increasingly desperate part of her was screaming to give in and let him make her his, another insisted it would only lead to trouble. There was a darkness in Tom that would consume her whole, one that would destroy her and everything she held dear. He'd already let this darkness take him, when he'd opened the Chamber of Secrets. A small part of her mind briefly wondered why she didn't just go to Dippet or Dumbledore with her information, but her intelligent mind knew he had ensured no evidence led back to him. He appeared clean of any guilt._

"_I'm not impossible, merely immovable. You're the impossible one, with this ridiculous denial of your desires," Tom countered._

"_Denial of my desires? What about yours, Tom? Why do you want me?" Phyllida asked heatedly, her anger quickly overriding the swelling feeling of need growing with every touch of their bodies._

"_My desires are not the subject of this discussion," Tom replied coldly. Phyllida's heart sank, a pain like nothing she had know flaring. She thrust out of his arms, before he could stop her._

"_Then clearly, I am not what you're truly after. I know what you want, Slytherin," she spat the word bitterly, her heart howling in pain. He was a typical Slytherin. "You want my power as the Heiress of Ravenclaw, nothing more. _I _don't come into the equation,"_

"_I don't want your power, Phyllida. I have enough of my own, although it would be an useful asset…" he trailed off, seeing the expression on her face. The mix of anger and desire was setting her eyes alive with fire, her skin gleaming iridescently, her breast heaving with the restrained emotion she was keeping back. "No, I don't want your power."_

"_Then what do you want?" Phyllida asked, her eyes steady on his face as the music played on around them, unseen couples laughing and talking as they danced around them. Tom remained silent. "I thought so."_

_And with that, Phyllida turned to sweep off the dance floor, until Tom's hands slid around her waist, hauling her back into his arms, pressing her cruelly against his body. Her eyes widening, she felt the scalding, distinct outline of what he wanted from her. _

"_Happy now?" he muttered in her ear, his mouth desperately caressing down her neck, as she moaned entreatingly. "I want you mine."_

"_No," Phyllida gasped, trying to leave his arms when a surge of pain swept through her body, making her almost scream from the suddenness of it all. What was happening?_

_Tom, feeling the exact same agony, hauled her closer, holding her desperately. Instantly the pain faded, replaced by that throbbing need. He needed her soon. _

_Phyllida clung to Tom's arms around her waist, trying to find some mental ground in the suddenly whirling world. At Tom's soothing touch, his gentle voice hushing her in her ear, she relaxed as the agony receded. What was happening to them? _

_She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, at his smouldering eyes, desire mixed with pain, and down to his lips, her own aching. Tom took her mouth, hard and wild, his hands sliding beneath her domino, tracing the curve of her waist. His kiss was so intoxicating, so…NO! She couldn't do this._

"_I-I can't do this," she murmured. Taking a shuddering breath, Phyllida pulled out of Tom's arms, and walked quickly off the dance floor. She needed air, needed to think. Away from him. To her surprise Tom didn't try to stop her as she disappeared into the mist._

* * *

_It was five to midnight. Phyllida stood in a corridor off the Entrance Hall, letting the cold, almost frigid air from the dungeons cool her sweaty skin. She'd flicked back her hood, the moonlight caressed her burnished brown hair. The candlelight flickered off a gold rose in her hair, the emerald serpent glinting._

_She leaned against a tapestry, shivers of pain and need flickering over her skin. She stared vacantly into space._

_Why was this happening to her? Why did she, after six years of hating his guts, have to fall in love with Tom Marvolo Riddle? She knew it was love, and not just awakened lust, because never had any emotion caused her such pain, such need. She didn't just want his body, she wanted him with her, by her side, together. The darkness she saw in him was increasingly becoming nothing more than an unimportant attribute. _

_She knew a part of it had to be due to the Pendant. Since the beginning of Hogwarts there had been Heirs and Heiresses of the different Founders at the school, but never of the same age. She and Tom were the first. A direct descendent of Slytherin, and one of Ravenclaw. They were bound by destiny and magic, as their ancestors had been until Rowena's death and Slytherin's desertion of the school._

_But magic couldn't create love. Nothing could, except the connection between two people. But he didn't feel the same. She knew it, saw it in his eyes. She wondered if he even knew what love was. That was why she couldn't allow him to claim her, no matter how she desired it, because her love for him would only drag her down with him into darkness. She'd follow him to hell and back. It was just so…difficult to resist. So difficult, not to mention painful. But that was the Pendant of Ravenclaw's doing, and probably the Slytherin Pendant Tom wore helped. Trying to ensure the bond between the two was cemented, one way or the other._

_The bell chimed the first strike of midnight, and Phyllida felt her domino and mask disappear, as they were enchanted to. With a wry smirk, she wondered how Cassius would react when he found out his date wasn't her. _

_Tears suddenly blurred her vision as Tom's image filled her thoughts again, the music from the masquerade echoing down the corridor. She held them back determinedly. She would not cry._

"_You know in that gown, you look like an ice queen," a voice suddenly commented behind her. Phyllida didn't need to turn to know it was Tom behind her. She continued to look out the window, at the snowy December night, at the sylvan moonlight welling through the planes of glass. She saw his reflection step toward her, hunger so very evident in his eyes. She was so tired; she couldn't fight anymore._

"_Tom-"_

"_Just waiting to melt," Tom continued, stepping close, running his mouth over the exposed nape of her neck. His domino and mask were gone, the alabaster skin of his face revealed, his raven hair gleaming. A wave of need left Phyllida dizzy._

_Tom's lips caressed down her neck, following the indent of her spine, his hands gently tracing the contours of her shoulder blades. Phyllida's hands clenched on the window sill. Her whisper was like a ray of moonlight; insubstantial and silvery. _

"_What have you done to me? Why do you make me feel like this?" she gasped, leaning her head on the cool glass, passively letting him touch her. She was just too tired to fight._

_As he left her skin, a rush of pain flared over her skin, making her cry out, nearly collapsing, Tom's face contorting as he felt the same agony. With the reflexes of an athlete, he caught her, turning her around in his arms, holding her to him tenderly. His hand stroked her soft hair gently, the pain of separation receding as their skin touched._

"_You asked me why I wanted you, Phyllida. And I'm going to be honest with you, something I rarely am," Tom whispered huskily, holding her close. She sighed in sheer bliss at the feel of him around her, holding her, making her feel so protected and safe. So wanted. Tom's fingers tilted her chin up, until her eyes met his. He gently wiped the beginnings of a stray tear from the corner of her eye before he continued. "I don't want you, Phyllida. I never did. But for some God-forsaken reason I need you, more than I need to breathe. Without you by my side I can't function right, not without wondering where you are, what you're doing, if you're well. It's maddening," Tom growled out, through his teeth. Phyllida could see it cost him a lot to say it, and she saw the frustration in his eyes. He didn't understand what he felt, nor did he want to feel the way he did, but like her, he had no choice._

_Phyllida didn't hesitate; she just stretched up and kissed him. It was gentle and tender at first, before she felt him against her, shivering, as he backed her against the wall. She gasped into his mouth, greedily burying her hands in his hair, as he picked her up, holding her against the wall with his body. Their bodies moved against one another, his hands moving all over her, and hers all over him, moving aside robes and the silk of her bodice, desperate to feel the other's skin. The bare skin of her back rasped against the rough stone wall, making it sting, and she suspected their furious movements had caused it to graze. She didn't care, just pulled Tom closer, eagerly kissing him, returning his fervour with her own. Tom groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding beneath her skirts to glide his hands up her legs, the smooth muscle tautening under his touch. Oh Merlin she wanted him, now._

_Tom's hands slid into her hair, ruffling the smooth style, the gold star flower holding it up being quickly dispensed with, leaving only his gift in, as he raked his fingers through the super-soft strands. Phyllida moaned, as his lips left hers to slide down her neck, torturing the sleek column, nipping and laving the swollen skin, tracing the curve down until his lips met her collarbone. But he didn't stop, just carried on, until she felt his lips on her breast, through the silk of her gown._

"_Tom!"_

_Her shocked gasp only seemed to focus his intentions, and soon Phyllida was writhing in his arms, almost frantic with desire. His lips returned to hers, violent and possessive, demanding everything from her. And she ached to give it._

_Abruptly Tom released her, and she slid down the wall, her back stinging. She leant against it; struggling to breathe. Why did he stop?_

_Her gaze went to him, tall, darkly handsome, his eyes burning, imperious and commanding in the moonlight. He held out his hand._

"_Come."_

* * *

_Arm in arm, Phyllida and Tom walked down into the dungeons, their minds wiped clean of any thought bar one. At last they reached the Slytherin Common Room, as Tom muttered the password –Salazar- and they entered. It was deserted; everyone was still at the masquerade and would be for hours yet. Taking her hand, he led her through the cold dungeon common room, filled with green armchairs and sofas, gloomy and forbidding. Phyllida repressed a shiver._

_Tom led her into the sixth-years dorm, and shut the door, as she glided down the room, towards what she instinctively knew was his bed. Only a strange sense of purpose was left besides the fiery need. She could feel Tom's eyes on her body._

"_Phyllida…" the three syllables were indicative of leashed desire, as Tom's arms came around her from behind, holding her for one moment before he turned her. Their lips met, perfectly synchronised, their tongues entwining, as she levered herself up in his hold. He crushed her body to his, hands already busy with the lacings of her gown. It slid down her body with a gentle _shush_ of silk, revealing her slender body still partially hidden from his gaze by an ivory shift, cut low in the back just like her dress. She stepped out of her shoes, her hands already tearing off his tie and opening his shirt, the fastenings of his waistcoat disappearing fast. Tom shrugged the offending articles of robe, suit jacket and waistcoat to the floor, taking a few steps back and sitting on the bed, tugging Phyllida along with him. She came willingly, framing his face between her face, straddling his lap. _

_Surprised at her initiative, Tom let her kiss him, her hands caressing his chest, undulating wantonly against him. Catching his breath- Merlin this witch was killing him- he took back control of the kiss and captured her mouth, his hands raking through her hair, trailing down her shoulders, taking the shift with them. His hands left her to shrug off his shirt, letting her run her hands over his now bare torso, gasping and crying out as his mouth dropped to her neck, passionately devouring her skin. She really couldn't take much more of this. It felt like a deep emptiness within her was throbbing, needy and painful, aching for him. Urgent, she pushed him back, her hands framing his face as they landed amid the forest-green pillows and sheets. Tom immediately rolled her over, his hands already pushing her shift up her body, past her waist. With shiver of excitement and anticipation, she pulled it over her head, eager to feel his skin on hers. Tom stared down at her, swallowing hard before kissing her deeply, possessively. With a flick of his hand the curtains of his bed slammed shut, enclosing them in a warm, dark tent, as shivered cries echoed on the air._

* * *

Hermione arched in her bed, every nerve in her body on fire, her lips parted as if waiting impatiently for someone's kiss. She moaned.

"Tom."

* * *

_Phyllida awoke, nestled in Tom's arms, the darkness closed in upon her. She had no idea what time it was, but she should probably get back to her dormitory. The moment she tried to move, however, Tom's arms tightened around her waist. Abruptly she was pushed onto her back, and she felt Tom's breath on her lips._

"_Tom, I should go," she explained, finding lying beneath him perfectly comfortable. She really didn't want to move._

"_No you don't. There's plenty of time," he murmured, and she could just imagine his customary smirk, as his lips covered hers seductively. In moments, she was moaning for him, her back arching under his touch, her skin quivering in anticipation. Her gaze, however, flicked to the world that awaited them outside their little world of linen sheets and emerald satin curtains._

"_What if someone comes in?" she asked, wrenching her lips away. Tom sighed, and she could imagine him rolling his eyes, a muttered incantation under his breath._

"_There, Silencing charm. So this time you can scream all you want to," he whispered in her ear, his teeth pulling on her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine. "And this time, you really will scream with pleasure."_

_Phyllida really had been a virgin, although Tom wasn't inexperienced, and the experience had been slightly painful and awkward at first. At least until she picked up the rhythm. Tom shuddered from the memory of how quickly she had learnt. But she was his now. He would have the rest of time to enjoy her, if the information Professor Slughorn had provided him with led to anything. On the thought, he kissed her possessively, tilting her head against the pillows, pinning her wrists to the mattress. Phyllida's hands wriggled from his grip, twining with his hair, pulling him down onto her, her hips lifting in silent entreaty, as he shifted over her. She was crushed beneath him from breast to knee, precisely as she wanted him, the mattress enabling her to meet him when he finally thrust into her aching body, their mouths fused as one, as they made love for the second time that night._

_Merlin knew how much later, Tom collapsed on Phyllida, both tumbling over the precipice of need and pleasure they had created together, their exhausted bodies trembling and sore. Phyllida knew she would have bruises in the morning, but she didn't care. All she knew was him. Tom settled her into his arms once more, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her flesh, the resilience of the limbs entwined with his. She was his, forever._

* * *

"Hermione, wake up!"

Hermione woke up, her chest heaving, her body sore and aching, as she met the eyes of Professor McGonagall.

"Professor!" Hermione noted the harried and worried expression on her teacher's face with concern. "What is it?"

The stern old woman actually looked like she might cry. "Miss Patil has just informed me you have been having strange dreams, Miss Granger,"

"Yes, Professor,"

"This seems to be the night for them," at the puzzled look Hermione sent her, McGonagall chose to elaborate. "Mr Weasley has just been attacked by a snake on duty for the Order, and Mr Potter has had a vision of it as it happened."

Hermione gasped, her mind whirring. "What happened? Is Harry alright? What about Mr Weasley? Are Ron and the oth-?"

"Miss Granger, I don't know. But you must come to the Headmaster's Office now, if I assume correctly that you wish to accompany Potter and the Weasleys to Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione slung on her dressing gown, fixing her messy frizz with a flick of her wand. "I think I need to see the Headmaster."

These dreams were spiralling out of control. She needed to tell Dumbledore about the Pendant of Ravenclaw and the dreams now. She had a sinking feeling something was going to happen, soon. She hurried out the door of the girls' dorm alongside McGonagall, her body still in the afterglow of a remembered pleasure.


	6. Hermione Goes To Dumbledore

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

Dumbledore's office was lit by the sapphire glow of a Portkey as Hermione and McGonagall swept in. Hermione caught a final glance of her friends before they faded away. Dumbledore, fully clothed in his usual sweeping robes, turned around with a genial smile.

"Ahh Professor McGonagall and…Miss Granger. To what do I owe this pleasure, at this unsightly hour?" he asked, that familiar twinkle in his eyes, yet Hermione thought she could detect a flicker of strained worry in those omniscient orbs.

"Where's Harry and Ron?" she asked, drawing her dressing gown around herself against the chill of the office.

"Gone to Grimmauld Place. Arthur Weasley has been injured," Dumbledore replied calmly, settling himself back into his chair. "You may join them, soon, Miss Granger, but I am guessing you are not just here for them, are you?"

Dumbledore's gaze turned piercing, and she felt as though she were under an X-ray. McGonagall opened her mouth, but Hermione spoke first.

"Professor I need to talk to you. It's…urgent," she finished awkwardly, her eyes pleading with the Headmaster. Once more she was subjected to his X-ray stare before he nodded.

"Come, then Miss Granger. Please sit," he indicated the chair opposite as McGonagall ushered Hermione forward, taking a place by her shoulder with a grandmotherly smile.

"Well, wha-?" Dumbledore was interrupted by a sudden flash of fire, as a single molten gold phoenix feather appeared from thin air, floating down to the desk between them. Dumbledore's eyes followed it, and nodded sombrely. "Minerva, could you go and head Dolores off? Just until I have finished with Miss Granger and sent her on her way,"

"Of course, Headmaster," McGonagall swept out the office without another word.

"Now, Hermione where were we?" Dumbledore favoured the girl with a kindly smile. She registered that for the first time in five years, Dumbledore has used her name.

Nervously she fidgeted in her seat.

* * *

"Well, umm…." Hermione mentally stared at herself, appalled. 'Umm' wasn't even a word! She looked up into Dumbledore's eyes and felt herself redden. He waited patiently for her to talk, but she could only pull apart the collar of her pyjamas and reveal the shining sapphire pendent hanging around her neck. Dumbledore straightened abruptly, his eyes widening. He leant forward, his eyes fixed on the eagle hanging just beneath her collarbone.

"How did you come to possess this?" he asked gently, straightening back up and fixing Hermione with an astonished look. If it was one thing Hermione was sure about, it was that Dumbledore rarely looked astonished.

"Well, it began on my sixteenth birthday. I had this dream…." she trailed off, as another wave of remembered pleasure made her body tingle. She was NOT about to start having an infatuation with the most evil Dark Wizard for centuries.

"A dream…?" Dumbledore prompted softly, his eyes fixed on hers, unease filtering into his tone.

"Yes."

Awkwardly, Hermione told him about the dreams and the visions, about the golden eagle that had delivered the Pendant to her and the letter. She recounted as accurately as she could the contents of the letter and her research into the House of Ravenclaw. When she had finally finished, Dumbledore's eyes were troubled and weary. Finally she asked him the question that had been in her mind ever since the Pendant had attached itself to her neck.

"Professor, what's going on?"

* * *

Dumbledore brooded in silence for awhile, before he nodded once. "Very well, Miss Granger. That Pendant around your neck is a very old, very powerful artefact that once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Within it lies the combined power of the Ravenclaw line, every witch and wizard who was born a blood relation from her, their power went to the Pendant after death. Once in a few generations an Heiress was born, a witch of Ravenclaw's bloodline who could wear the Pendant and bear its power, until their own death, after which it was passed to the next Heiress. There have been accounts of weak Heiresses that were consumed by the power," Dumbledore told her gravely. Hermione gasped, horrified.

"That's totally barbaric! How could Ravenclaw create such a thing?" she asked, academic interest shining in her eyes despite her utter horror, so much so she missed the veiled compliment in Dumbledore's words.

"Here we come to that which is insubstantial myth, Miss Granger. We cannot know for sure, but in the legends surrounding this…incredible artefact, it is said that this Pendant, the one you wear now, was forged for Rowena by her lover, Salazar Slytherin," he told her, his eyes fixed on hers.

"But there are no historical records…."

"No, Miss Granger there wouldn't be. Salazar and Rowena were highly private people; I doubt even Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were aware of it. But back to the point; the legend says that Salazar created two Pendants, one for himself and one for Rowena. Into these they poured a portion of their innate power and sealed them. After Rowena Ravenclaw's death, the Pendant disappeared, thought lost, until 1954, where our story becomes even more strange," he finished, falling into reverie. Hermione frowned.

"What about Slytherin's Pendant?" she asked. Dumbledore raised his head and looked at her, his eyes sweeping past hers and into her very soul, or so it seemed.

"It too disappeared from any knowledge after Slytherin's death, passed on in secret through his Heirs," he replied quietly. A moment later, he left his seat to kneel before Hermione. "Miss Granger, I assume you know what Legilimency is?"

"The magic of looking into a person's mind and divining their thoughts and memories," Hermione responded automatically.

"Correct. I have a theory how the Pendant came to you, Miss Granger but I must have evidence to prove it. Will you allow me to see these dreams you have been having?" he asked gently. Hermione squirmed slightly, looking down at the floor. They were so personal.

"I…"

"Hermione, know I would not ask this of you if it were not for the best reasons. I will look no further than I have to," Dumbledore reassured her. Eventually she looked up and nodded, her cheeks aflame. With a reassuring smile, the Headmaster gently placed his wand tip against her forehead and muttered, "Legilimens!"

This time Hermione was watching in the third person as Tom Riddle backed Phyllida Raven into a wall, their lips mere inches from each other.

And then again as Tom brushed the bare nape of Phyllida's neck in the Great Hall.

And finally the passionate kiss between the two in the moonlight that quickly escalated, making Hermione blush. Finally Tom moved away from Phyllida enough for Hermione to see her face and she gasped in shock.

Then suddenly as it had begun it stopped, Hermione slumping to the floor as Dumbledore's surprisingly strong grip caught her and set her back on the chair. His eyes pierced her once more, grave and troubled, and yet also so weary.

"Professor, what is it?" Hermione finally asked, leaning forward on her elbows, focusing on her Headmaster to settle her spinning head.

"Oh, my dear girl, you don't realise how much more dark and difficult your life is about to become," Dumbledore whispered, pain flashing across his features. Hermione blinked, confused.

"Professor, what-?"

"Hermione, I know what you have been experiencing and let me tell you, they are no dream. The events you have just shown me only reinforce my conclusions. Hermione," at this, Dumbledore leant on his desk, fingers steepled together, his eyes twinkling but sad, "Those dreams are no fantasy of your subconscious; they are memories. Latent memories that have lain dormant in your psyche since you were born. The bestowing of the Pendant seems to have reawakened them,"

"Professor, I don't understand-?"

"Hermione, these dreams you have been experiencing, they really happened. Fifty years ago there was a Ravenclaw student by the name of Phyllida Raven at this school. She was the Heiress of Ravenclaw," Dumbledore interrupted her quickly.

"But what do you mean by the memories being in my psyche since birth? I-I mean I've read about some enchanted gemstones having the ability to absorb memories from their wearers' but-"

"Hermione, these are no absorbed memories. The Pendant of Ravenclaw came to you for a reason; these memories were once your own, a long, long time ago," Dumbledore spoke over her impatiently.

"Professor, I don't understand. How can these memories, if that is what they are, be mine?" Hermione asked, for some reason, foreboding stealing over her. She swore she could feel her heart sink.

"Come here; I have something to show you." Dumbledore opened a drawer and beckoned her over. Shakily Hermione left her seat and joined him, as he took from his drawer a folder. It was dusty and worn, the cardboard corners beginning to bend and look dog-eared, as Dumbledore flicked it open and rooted through its contents. Finally he extracted an immaculate file, and opened it slowly. Hermione's eyes met the eyes of the girl who smiled sadly up at them from the photograph, and felt her world shatter, her vision blanking as the Pendant of Ravenclaw flared on her breast, emitting a bright blue glow, as her fist clenched and another vision took over.

* * *

_It had been nine years since Phyllida had last seen him, at their graduation from Hogwarts. Nine years in which her yearning for him had only grown, so nothing else could rival it. Nothing else could break through it, not even fear, as she saw him, outlined by flames, the shapes of a monstrous emerald skull in the sky, its eerie sheen illuminating everything below. Behind her, her home lay in ruins, her parents and sister apparated to safety, as the black-cloaked man stalked toward her, his followers hanging back behind him. He stretched one pale hand toward her on the floor._

"_Come."_

_That was it. One word, ringing with tones of command and menace, so different from the loving voice she had heard in her dreams so often._

_Riled by his tone, Phyllida summoned her wand and cast the strongest stunning spell she could at him and his followers. Tom waved it away lazily, as he strode forward, a flare of red light bursting from his wand and wrapping around Phyllida's torso, yanking her up and into his waiting arms. She struggled fiercely, calling on all her magic, the Pendant of Ravenclaw glowing as brightly as the mark in the sky. _

"_Don't be foolish, Phyllida," he snarled from beneath his hood, as his hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His hot breath brushed her neck and face, as their bond re-awoke and Phyllida felt her body lose resolution, as her power faded. The Pendant's glow did not abate, but merely grew as it sensed the presence of its counterpart, shining beneath Tom's robes. Every retort to his arrogant words died on Phyllida's lips, as she looked up into familiar dark eyes, a distinct red gleam in their infinite depths, his face paler and gaunter than she remembered, his hair longer. As her lips parted, her breath coming short, Tom's grip on her waist loosened, confident she would not now run from him._

"_Come away with me, Phyllida. There's nothing left for you here," Tom whispered in her ear, his eyes devouring her hungrily. She turned away, her eyes lingering on the ruined house behind her, trying to fight. The bastard had destroyed her home, nearly killed her family and had fatally injured her fiancé. Albeit her arranged fiancé but still._

_In her heart, Phyllida could only feel relief that she wouldn't have to marry Cassius Malfoy after all._

"_Come away with me, Phyllida," a shiver at his name on her tongue again, as Tom placed a gentle caress on her neck and held her tightly. Phyllida's answer was a breathy moan as long-buried desire broke free once more._

"_Yes."_

_Tom's hand roughly pulled her head back as his lips devoured hers once more._

* * *

Dumbledore's words pulled Hermione back to the present, away from Phyllida and Tom, away from 1954.

"Hermione, you are the Heiress of Ravenclaw."


	7. The Serpent And The Bird

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

**This is set a little bit later than the previous chapter, during the battle of the Department of Mysteries. Tom and Hermione will finally meet.**

**Tom: About bloody time.**

**Me: Shut up, Tom. If it were up to you, they would have been at it like rabbits in the first chapter!**

**Tom: Can't blame a bloke for trying.**

**Me: Typical man.**

**Thanks for all your really kind comments!**

* * *

As Hermione ducked another Killing Curse, she reflected absentmindedly on the bizarre turn her life had taken in just seven months. She had discovered her heritage, lost any chance of a normal life, forced to watch her parents get taken into hiding for their own protection and had been taught Occlumency and magic so powerful and dangerous, she shuddered to think about it. All in the name of being able to protect herself from Tom. Dumbledore had destroyed any hope that Tom- wait why was she referring to him as 'Tom'? - that _**Voldemort**_ wouldn't be, or become aware of their bond. To Hermione's relief, her dreams had stopped, held at bay by her ever-growing ability with Occlumency. Her success had led Hermione to be a little annoyed at Harry's own lack of progress with the subject. The boy really didn't try hard enough.

For the past few months, ever since they had returned from Grimmauld Place, she and Ron had watched Harry with worried eyes, knowing at something was eating at him inside, his unease at sharing a connection with Voldemort. Hermione could empathise.

Dumbledore hadn't been able to emphasise enough that it was imperative Voldemort not find out her identity, either through Harry or other means. They would meet; it seemed inevitable, but hopefully Hermione would be strong enough to resist him.

At least long enough to get away.

"Mudblood!"

Hermione's head whipped around, to face the cold grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy, platinum blonde hair dishevelled; blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. She'd just seen him knocked back by a spell from Sirius, but it seemed the pureblood was back up and fighting, having regained his wand. Setting her mouth in a grim snarl, she threw a nonverbal Stunning spell at him, which he ducked and returned a nasty Stabbing curse at her. It hit Hermione's shield with a resonant _dong_.

"Hermione!" Tonk's alarmed shout was cut off, echoing in the cavernous room, as curses rebounded off the dimly gleaming walls, and the young Auror was smashed into a wall by a curse from her aunt Bellatrix. Her jaw setting, feeling a rush of hot fury that had nothing to do with the Pendant of Ravenclaw that flamed under her shirt and jumper, Hermione let fly a volley of curses that smashed into Lucius Malfoy, and sent him flying into the wall, where he finally slid to the ground, unconscious. Suddenly hearing a triumphant bark of a laugh, Hermione spun, her eyes widening.

Bellatrix Lestrange rematerialised in a cloud of black light, emerald green light flashing from her wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light hit Sirius, and Hermione stood transfixed, as shocked and disbelieving as Harry, as they watched Sirius give his godson a sad smile and fall backwards through the Veil.

The room reverberated with Harry's cries of pain, as Lupin held onto him, Bellatrix's taunting laughs of delight echoing in the chamber. Hermione could only stare, shocked and unable to take in what had happened. Sirius Black, Sirius the consummate survivor, was dead!

From the corner of her eye, she saw Harry rush after Bellatrix, a murderous glint in his eye, grief; pain and hatred evident on his young face. Hermione was frozen to the spot, the Pendant of her heritage shining a deep blue, bright in the dark chamber. The others all stood around, shocked, pain writ deep in their eyes and faces as they struggled to come to terms with what they had just seen. Then suddenly Hermione bent double, pain slashing through her body, dark power singing to her.

A seductive voice called to her, and she struggled to fight, her eyes shut against the pain and the real world. He was here.

Tom was here.

* * *

Tom looked down almost pityingly at the pathetic excuse for a wizard before him. How had this weak, useless boy evaded him and the death which was his destiny for so long? So the boy had expelled him from his mind, but that was only a small setback. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him, as Potter's pitiful band of children came running to their illustrious leader's aid. Outside the swirling cloud of silicone dust that made up their world, Time was frozen. Not even Dumbledore could reach them here. It was just him and Potter.

"You're the weak one, because you'll never know love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you."

Potter's strained, pain-filled words filtered into his brain, as he dismissed them with a scoff. He did not need love, or friendship. Such weaknesses were not for him. Not after-

Tom's mind shut off that particular line of thought, as he sneered down at the weakened boy.

"You're a fool, Harry Potter, and you will lose…everything," he murmured, almost lovingly, silkily as a serpent. Indeed, the boy's emotions would be his downfall, someday.

But then the Pendant of Slytherin flared on his chest, and he inhaled through his serpentine nostrils, throwing his head back. She was here!

_So my little Heiress has finally come out to play._

At last she'd left her hiding place. He knew she was a student at Hogwarts, had felt her presence there, had felt her close to Potter, in the crowd of ecstatic students, when he'd sent the boy that dream. She would have been safe at Hogwarts, but now….this would be all too easy. He would relish the look on Dumbledore's face when he turned one of his precious students and unleashed the dark power of the twin Pendants upon the world. He would be unstoppable.

She was in the Atrium.

Tom's head snapped around, focussing on the group of people who stood outside, frozen in Time. He scanned them, one after the other, until his eyes fixed on one.

His snake-like eyes widened as he met the suspended eyes of a woman he'd long thought dead.

It couldn't be…?

Slowly, as if in a daze, he moved out of the dust cloud and towards the young girl who stood staring sympathetically at Harry, her long, dishevelled, honey gold tresses spilling over her shoulders, brown eyes wide, and a cut extending from the corner of her eye, scarlet against the white of her skin. She was so different- the colour of her hair, the stronger tilt of her chin and the stubborn glint in her eye- and yet so similar- her exquisite face and figure, disguised in plain grey and stripes; and the colour of her eyes; the same deep brown, the curly, untamed tresses. He could see a great deal more strength and vivacity in her, a deep-seated stubbornness that went deeper than Phyllida's had ever done. She would not be one easy to subdue. She would be a true challenge.

His hand slowly stretched out to her face, just brushing her warm hair. It smelt of magic and fire; she'd been in battle recently, indeed he could sense the magic radiating off of her. His hand slid down, stopping over the space where he sensed the Pendant lay, just over her heart, hidden beneath her clothes. And sure enough he felt the flare of power over his skin, as with a gasp, Hermione's eyes shot up to his.

"You…" Hermione murmured, fear dripping into her voice as she moved back from him, her eyes wide with terror. Tom watched her through narrowed red eyes, coldly wondering who she was. She seemed…familiar, and not just in her physical resemblance. He had seen her before, but where?

Quickly he sifted through his memories; until he found her. In Potter's memories.

"Hermione Granger."

Those six syllables sent shivers down Hermione's spine as she backed into the wall, Tom's –**Voldemort's**- spidery hand extended towards her, his thin yet strong arm draped in floaty black fabric. He went to move closer-

Hermione reacted.

A wave of power left her wandless hand and rushed towards Tom, flinging him away. Stunned, he had never met with such untamed, unadulterated power; he barely managed to right himself in time to avoid smashing into the wall, gliding down until he touched the floor, eyes fixed on the panting girl in front of him. To his confusion, she suddenly gasped and fell to her knees.

* * *

_Phyllida waited, cold purpose the only thing left in her heart. She knew he would come soon. She stood at the window of their bedroom in Albania, her long hair loose down her back, her bare body covered by a thin robe, as lightning flickered outside. She felt the rush of power as he apparated into the room, felt it call to her, making her pulse race._

Phyl, focus!

_But Phyllida found it incredibly hard to remember why she was about to do what she had to, as strong hands slid around her waist, and hard lips brushed her neck. Her eyes half-closed, she tilted her head to the side, feeling his hands caress her body through the silk, raw magic and desire rippling over her skin._

"_Good evening, my darling," she felt him growl against her skin before she was spun around, her mouth plundered hungrily by his. Phyllida gave into it for a moment, let her body exult in the fiery embrace, before she drew back, to look into his dark emerald eyes. She felt tears come to her eyes when she remembered what she had learnt, just that afternoon. His eyes searched hers perplexedly._

"_I know you killed them, Tom," she murmured, pain filling her body, replacing that cold purpose. Comprehension dawned in his eyes, and she saw that now familiar flash of red in them that always preceded murder._

"_They spoke against me. They were a threat that needed to be eliminated," he intoned coldly, letting Phyllida go, stepping back, his eyes fixed on hers. Hers flashed angrily._

"_That wasn't your choice to make. I'm sorry, Tom," she whispered, heart heaving with pain. "Expelliarmus!"_

_With a flick of her hand his wand flew from his robe pocket, and he flew backwards onto the bed. Drawing on all her strength, Phyllida advanced on the bed. She raised her hand-_

* * *

Hermione breathed freely as the vision left her abruptly, and she raised her head to meet _**his**_ cold gaze across the Atrium. Their gazes locked, as the twin Pendants shone on their chests, sapphire blue and emerald green in the darkness, friends and enemies alike frozen around them. Raw electricity seemed to flow over her skin under his gaze, as she fought to regain control of her muscles. Tom cocked his head, briefly pondering his next move, as they stared at one another. The bird captivated by the serpent.

Suddenly the fireplaces of the Floo network burst into life as Aurors and the Minister stepped from them, and Tom's head snapped sideways, breaking the Timeless charm he had cast over the Atrium. With a mental snarl, he opened the link that no Occlumency could withstand, and spoke directly into Hermione's mind.

_I'll be seeing you soon, Hermione…_

Hermione watched as Tom Disapparated in a swirl of dust, as Dumbledore scrambled across to Harry's still inert body, cradling it in his arms.

"He's back!" Cornelius Fudge's stunned, frightened squeak pulled Hermione from her dream world, as she and the others turned their heads to look at him. But Hermione could not bring herself to feel the same scorn and incredulity that filled the faces of the others, as the Pendant of Ravenclaw gleamed on her chest, and her gaze met Dumbledore's.

_He's found me_

* * *

Tom apparated into the darkened room of the dilapidated Lestrange manor. Like so many wizard dwellings, it was Unplottable and protected from Muggles, but it was also inaccessible to anyone who did not possess a Dark Mark.

Rage flew from him as rays of red light flashed from his wand, the glass mirror across from him cracking and causing several masked men around him to collapse in pain. Bellatrix Lestrange cowered in one corner.

"My Lord-" she began in a pleading voice, but Tom held up his white hand.

"Not a word from you, Bella. Rookwood!" he barked. The snivelling ex-Unspeakable presented himself before his Master, shaking with fear.

"Y-yes Master?" he asked, not quite meeting Tom's eyes.

"Find out everything about Hermione Granger. Her bloodline, family history everything. I want to know everything!" Tom ordered him, knuckles whiter than bone on his wand.

"Immediately M-my L-Lord." Rookwood bowed and left the room as if relieved to escape his Master's presence.

"That Mudblood?" Bella exploded, a frown on her mad forehead, confusion and disgust evident in her deranged eyes. A moment later, she lay writhing on the floor.

"I said not another word from you, Bella. I do not appreciate failure and disobedience." Tom said silkily, keeping his wand on her, enjoying every ounce of pain he extracted from her screaming body.

He had suffered a minor glitch today, but soon, he would know everything, and he would be invincible. Particularly when a certain apparently Muggle-born witch with extraordinary power joined him, forever his, by his side for eternity.

Oh yes, he could taste victory already.


	8. Reunion

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

"Well?"

The Death Eater cowered in front of his master, a sheaf of parchment in his shaking hands, as the harsh word grated on his ears.

"M-my Lord," he proffered the parchment and laid it on the desk in front of the Dark Lord. Tom chuckled at the visible signs of fear in his servant. Good to know the worm knew his place.

Tom snatched the parchment from the desk and flicked through it, frowning slightly, despite the sense of anticipation and triumph that was welling within him. At last he would understand and know everything. Most especially why an apparently Muggle-born witch was blessed with such untamed power and possessed of the Pendant of Ravenclaw. And why the bloody hell the witch looked like that miserable pure-blood Phyllida Raven.

* * *

Rookwood's nasal voice broke through his ruminations.

"I could find nothing in the girl's father's line. He is pure…Muggle," the Death Eater's tone turned sneering. "Her mother on the other hand, is another matter."

"In what way?" Tom's voice was silky, disguising his impatience and anticipation.

"I suppose my Lord remembers the House of Ravenclaw?" Rookwood asked, with a slight tremor in his tone.

"Does my Death Eater presume to say I have a faulty memory?" Tom asked in his most soft, dangerous voice.

"N-no m-my Lord. I-I did not m-mean t-to-"

"Oh stop your babbling, Rookwood, lest I get bored," Tom spat, twirling his wand idly in his spidery fingers. "Get on with it!"

"Yes M-my Lord. I did some research into the mother's background, and her line. Granger's grandmother, Louisa Rivenclaw; I looked into her background. The records do not match up; there is no record of a Louisa Rivenclaw before 1955, when she first appeared working as a nurse in central London," Rookwood said quickly.

"Rivenclaw?" Tom sat up, frowning.

"Yes. I looked into the House of Ravenclaw and found out this. In 1931 a Louisa Raven was born to Magnus and Athena Raven, the younger sister of Phyllida Raven. But there was no record of her on the Hogwarts scroll or anywhere else and there is only one explanation for that. She was a Squib, kept secret by her family. Presumably she went into hiding in the Muggle world after her family was killed," Rookwood finished.

"And produced Jane Granger who married into the Granger family," Tom mused.

"Yes my Lord. Louisa Rivenclaw married George Royce in 1959. Granger's mother was born the same year," Rookwood finished, bowing.

"Do we know where they live?" Tom asked, still musing to himself at this development. Usually Squibs would just produce more non-magical offspring, but not in Hermione. It seemed she was the exception to the rule.

"Yes, my Lord. But I already sent spies to the address and it was empty. It seems they have left the country," Rookwood answered.

"Or in hiding," Tom snarled. Dumbledore must already know, and had put the Muggles in hiding. But no matter, he could look into Hermione's mind, and find out their location. He nodded decisively. "Very well. Assemble a team of Death Eaters. We capture Granger tonight."

* * *

Hermione sat on the floor of Grimmauld Place, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Dumbledore sat at the table watching her dolefully. He'd just sent Harry and the others back to Hogwarts but had pulled her aside. Lupin and Kingsley had brought her back here.

"Hermione, now he knows your identity, you must go into hiding, at least until you can return to Hogwarts in the new term," Dumbledore's quiet voice pulled her out of her memories. She wasn't surprised, and the announcement didn't take her off guard. Indeed, she perked up slightly.

"I can see my parents again?" she asked. Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, Hermione. Now Voldemort has become aware of the bond between you, he will use it to his advantage. We can't risk exposing your parents' location to them, especially now we have moved them to another. Now Lupin will soon be back here from escorting your parents' to their new home, and he will escort you to the safe house, where you can pack what you need, and get away. I will send on your Hogwarts trunk," Dumbledore stood abruptly, and came to stand in front of Hermione. She looked up at him, utterly depressed, and put down her mug. Dumbledore placed his wizened hand on her hair. "I am sorry, Hermione."

"It's just…all happened so fast," she mumbled, blinking back tears. Another part of her wanted to scream. She had never wanted this, never wanted anything more than to be top of the year at everything and have a good job one day. Maybe a husband and a family but now….her life was turned upside down.

Never to be normal again.

* * *

Maybe this was what Harry went through every minute of his life: the knowledge that a normal life would always be beyond him. He was the Boy Who Lived and she was the Heiress of Ravenclaw, supposed reincarnation of a previous Heiress, and magically bound to the most evil wizard alive.

Hermione shivered as she remembered those cold, calculating eyes that had pinned her; those marblesque spidery hands and that thin, cool yet toned body. Hermione abruptly shut off that route of thought. Those were Phyllida's feelings not her own, compounded by the Pendant. She wouldn't succumb to him, ever. Not to that snake-faced, loathsome worm!

But in the deepest recesses of her soul, Hermione couldn't deny the attraction that his power and those eyes had sent shivering through her every nerve. He was danger and wicked temptation personified, even now. Poor Phyllida would never have stood a chance.

A second later she snapped out of her trance. _Get a grip, Hermione!_

"Hermione?" Dumbledore's concerned voice brought her back to herself. She blinked, focussing on his ancient blue eyes.

"Sorry, Professor," she mumbled, unable to stop the blush rising to her face.

"It's quite alright, Miss Granger. As I was just saying I must leave you now, to attend to Harry, but I hope you remain safe. It would be a black day if we lost you to Voldemort," he said, kindly enough, but Hermione sensed the warning beneath the comment.

"I will never succumb to him, Professor. I hate him and all he stands for," she asserted vehemently. A slight smile graced Dumbledore's smile.

"I hope you are strong enough, Miss Granger. Good luck," he sighed before he apparated away with a _crack_.

* * *

Tom watched from the shadows as the girl and a man apparated in front of the modest, 1980s built detached house in the London suburb. He was cloaked and shielded, so no-one, not even his Death Eaters could see him. Neither could the girl sense him. This was an old trick, one he'd perfected numerous times with Phyllida. Snatching her would be easy.

He recognised the male who led Hermione into the house, warily looking around at the dark street. Remus Lupin, the werewolf.

He could feel the mutt beside him smirk in self-gratification and anticipation. Of course, Fenrir Greyback turned Lupin as a little child.

Shaking away his thoughts, he waited, for the time to strike and seize the Heiress.

Hermione walked into her bedroom, and sighed. She could feel the Fidelius charm's magic deteriorating as she moved, could feel the dark presence at the very verge of her consciousness. It had only grown since she'd left the safety of Grimmauld Place with Lupin. Voldemort knew she was at large, and he would be looking for her. _He wouldn't want to let my power go to waste on the Light side, despite my poor blood_, she thought scathingly as she picked up a rucksack and began shovelling clothes into it with a violent intensity, as though the innocent sweaters and jeans were responsible for the upheaval in her life.

_No need for that tone, dearest, although you are, in essence, correct_

Hermione dropped the rucksack and spun around as _his_ silky voice reverberated in her mind. Breathing shallowly, she crossed to the window and looked out into the darkening street. She could see nothing, but that didn't mean anything. Death Eaters could apparate without a sound if they so wished; she was sure Voldemort could do the same. Or he could be communicating with her long-distance. The trouble was she could find almost no information on the attributes of the bond they shared, so she knew nothing for sure. Could they communicate telepathically? Could he sense her presence? Could she do the same? Could she block him from her mind?

She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't been privy to too much secret information on the Order recently. Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper, Voldemort couldn't find out the location of the nerve centre of the Resistance from her. The Order was safe.

_Yes, pity that. But you will have your other, far more important uses Hermione._

"What the hell?" Hermione yelped, jumping backwards. "Remus!"

There was no reply.

* * *

Silence reined in the house as Hermione whirled and raced out of her bedroom, whipping out her wand. How had they taken out Remus without making a sound?

_I could teach you the trick, Hermione_

"Shut up, Voldemort!" she snarled under her breath. She HAD to be going crazy. The Pendant around her neck burned suddenly, as the house seemed to explode with noise as windows burst inwards and Death Eaters apparated with a _crack_. Hermione instinctively threw up a shield, ducking as cries of '_Stupefy'_ surrounded her. She managed to block a few of them, before she rolled and stood. She knocked aside one Death Eater with a flick of her wand before Disarming another.

"Expelliarmus!" a familiar voice screeched the syllables to the sky, as Hermione felt her wand leave her hand. The spell blasted her backwards onto her back. "_Crucio_!"

The curse hit Hermione, and she writhed in pain. White hot knives of iron penetrated her skin, making her back arch with agony as she screamed. Jeering laughter surrounded her, filtering through the pain as it lessened, and Hermione looked up into the glittering eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"That will teach you to fight against your superiors, Mudblood. Now stand!" the witch barked. Hermione narrowed her eyes and stood shakily, fighting to concentrate. Now was the time for her to put into practice all that magic Dumbledore had taught her himself. All she had to do was concentrate.

"Where is Remus?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse. She looked Bellatrix straight in the eye as she asked this, using all her instinctive powers of Legilimency. She bet the old toad wasn't expecting this!

Bellatrix felt Hermione's power and was powerless to stop her. A second later, the young witch released her with a satisfied smile. Lupin was safe, knocked out, but unharmed. They were only after her.

"You filth! How dare you trespass into the mind of your betters?" Bellatrix screeched, a cry of anger simmering from the remaining Death Eaters. Hermione, despite her fear and her pain, smiled a feline grin. Oh Merlin she couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces!

"Personally I think it rather telling to your apparent 'superiority' that I could penetrate your mind in the first place, Bellatrix," Hermione smirked, before she accessed her power and disappeared with a flash of blue light. The Death Eaters covered their eyes against the blinding glare, lowering their arms to find nothing in Hermione's place except a golden eagle feather.

Tom stood on a hill overlooking the suburb where his Heiress lived, and smiled triumphantly where he saw the flashes of light and the sudden glare that indicated Hermione's escape. He had been right about her power; it was pure, unadulterated and soon, it would be all his. Nagini lay draped over his black-clad shoulders, as with a hiss from him, she dropped to the floor.

"_Find her and hold her, Nagini,"_ he ordered her in Parseltongue. The snake bowed its head before it slipped away into the undergrowth. Tom breathed deeply, satisfied that soon his victory would be within grasp, as the Pendant of Slytherin shone on his chest.

Hermione rematerialised in a small woodland copse of trees a few yards from her home. She was too tired to transport herself further, but she scrambled to her feet and sprinted off, despite her screaming muscles. The Cruciatus curse really was a killer.

_And she will pay dearly for that mistake, dearest. I allow no-one to touch what is mine._

Voldemort's voice spoke in her head, as she ran, ducking into a side alley as she emerged from the copse. Hermione fought to keep him out, fought to keep her shields up as she'd been taught.

_You can't fight me forever, Hermione. Come to me…_

"Over my dead body," Hermione snarled to herself. She ran into a small play park bordering a sports field and stopped short. In front of her lay the biggest snake she'd ever seen, all emerald green and black diamond markings. It reared up and fixed her with a beady eye, hypnotic, compelling.

_I have her, Master_.

Hermione struggled to fend off the snake's gaze, fighting to regain her motor abilities, fresh panic surging within her when she heard it speak. Wait…she could understand what the snake was saying? She was a Parseltongue now?

Oh yippee!

* * *

Unknowingly, Hermione spoke aloud as she finally snapped free of the snake's gaze. She turned to run, hearing a sharp hiss behind her, as she smashed headlong into muscled arms and torso, clothed in black robes and leather gloves. Arms that closed around her waist, and stopped her escape. A fresh surge of fear rose within her, as Hermione lifted her head and stared into eyes out of her greatest nightmares.

"Hello, Hermione,"


	9. Power And Pleasure

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

"Hello Hermione," Tom said smugly as he gazed down at the frightened eyes of the witch in his arms. After one frozen moment, she began to struggle, squirming against his hold. "Hold still, witch!"

Hermione gasped at the feeling of a leash being yanked in her mind as she stopped fighting and went limp in his grasp, unable to speak. She hated herself for it; why couldn't she move? She hated herself for her weakness even more when she met Tom's-_**Voldemort's**_ gaze.

It was smug, confident, entirely and utterly dominant.

"What's the matter, my dear? Snake got your tongue?" he asked silkily, as Hermione was reminded powerfully of the handsome, perfect Prefect of her dreams. Where had he gone?

_Stop this right now, Hermione Jean Granger! You are not about to feel sorry for Lord-frigging-Voldemort!_

* * *

Angrily, Hermione opened her mouth.

"It doesn't help when some snake-faced idiot on a power trip is stopping me using my motor functions!" Hermione retorted acerbically. A moment later, she mentally smacked herself on the forehead. Way to go, Hermione, just bait the nutter holding you way too close for personal comfort!

But to her surprise, Hermione didn't feel the effects of the Cruciatus curse, only a soft chuckle.

"You have fire in you, Hermione," Tom whispered softly, leaning in close. Hermione's breath caught involuntarily. Tom smirked as he held Hermione's chin in one hand, and gripped her hair with the other, pulling her head back, arching her neck. "So strong and so unafraid. You, unimportant Mudblood that you are, should tremble in fear when I approach, yet you do not even flinch when you use my name."

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione snapped proudly. Tom smiled down at her, a terrible vulpine smile, one that sent shivers down her spine. A moment later she was spun around, still enclosed in his arms, but her back was now to his torso. "I will enjoy turning you, my dear."

"I am not yours, Voldemort," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Oh but you are, Hermione, you are," he whispered against her ear, as his gloved hands moved form her waist to the buttons of her blouse.

"Don't you d-" Hermione began to squirm ineffectually, panicky and fearful for the first time since they'd first met, or met again, a few hours before. But her protest was cut off by the feel of leather gliding over her skin. Her breathing rapidly becoming shallower, Hermione arched and moaned, as Tom spoke in her ear.

"You belong to me, Hermione. You were made for me, little Heiress, and I will teach you everything. The true meaning of power…and of pleasure," he murmured seductively, as his hand brushed the Pendant lying warm and heavy on her skin. A bolt of pure pleasure washed through her body, as Hermione's knees felt weak and she let herself go limp in his hold. Tom smirked at the emotions he could feel rushing through her, so many delicious emotions, some he hadn't experienced for decades. It was dizzying.

He knew so much more than last time, knew how much mental pleasure he could subject her to before triggering the inevitable time limit before they had to become one. As long as he did not touch her bare skin with his own, they were safe. Her seduction and turning could progress at his desire; he smirked as he inhaled the fresh scent of her hair. He sent her another wave of pleasure, his other hand brushing her bare skin through his leather glove, learning the contours of her body. So different yet so similar to Phyllida, he'd heard of magical reincarnations. He'd never thought to see one with his own eyes. He only regretted he could not touch her with his bare hands yet, but there was time. There was all eternity, now. He had her and he would never give her up.

* * *

Hermione felt like she was drowning in pure pleasure, a sharp ache emanating throughout her body, as she bit her lips against the instinctive cries that begged to be set free from her throat. She shifted against the man behind her, begging for release, all coherent thought gone, all pride negated by the sheer need she felt.

* * *

Tom inhaled raggedly when he felt her slender body press so desperately to his. Merlin give him strength, she was enticement incarnate. He was tempted to just throw her down on the play ground floor and have her here and now. A moment later, an evil smile lit his face. He couldn't touch her in the physical world, but in the world of dreams and the subconscious, she was already his. Time to experiment, maybe….?

Hermione let out a little moan of entreaty when Tom's hands left her body, and the fierce; throbbing heat of the Pendant ebbed slightly. His arms left, snatching away her only anchor as sense returned, and shame burnt her cheeks red. She can't believe she nearly gave into him so soon. She refused to look at him, her eyes on Nagini watching them amusedly, unable to focus on anything other than what he'd made her feel. She was achingly aware of the dark power standing so close to her, how easily he could reach out and crush her, enfold her in his darkness and take her for his own, forever. Escape was a nonsensical notion.

Tom noticed the blush in her cheeks, the way she determinedly avoided looking at him. Stepping closer, he ensnared her chin and raised her eyes to meet his. He caught the flash of desire in those lovely orbs, before defiance rose, with just a hint of fear, and Hermione tried to fight, going rigid in his hold. He could read her thoughts so easily in that second. She couldn't take her mind off what he'd just done to her. Tom smirked evilly.

"Don't fear, Hermione. I plan on making you feel much more heated yet, my dear," he murmured, grabbing her roughly and pulling her close, so her lips were inches from his. He felt her breathing catch as their breaths mingled, and her lips throbbed with want. "_Imperio_!"

_Sleep, Hermione….._

As the girl collapsed in his arms, he hefted her easily, her head settling into the hollow of his collarbone, as he apparated into the darkness, Nagini curling around his shoulders.

He had so much to teach her, and he could barely wait. Starting now.

* * *

**Tom: You are so evil**

**Me: Hark who's talking, Mr-I-Am-The-Most-Evil-Dark-Lord-Of-All-Time!**

**Tom: Guess you had a good tutor, then, darling.**

**Author rolls her eyes. **

**Me: Alright Snake-boy, time to get your head out of your arse and help me with this next chapter.**

**Tom: Your wish is my command, dearest. (Plants a kiss on my neck)**

**Nagini: The next chapter could a long time coming, those two are at it again, (Shakes her head), just can't get the staff nowadays.**

**Me: Tom, some control over your snake would be appreciated!**

**Tom: Ahh but which one? (Smirks devilishly and kisses me again)**

**Me: I cannot believe you just said that! You sex-obsessed, male, misogynistic pig!**

**Tom: Ouch, I'm cut up. And impressed that you managed to use a word with so many syllables in it.**

**Me: Bite me, Snake-boy!**

**Tom: Gladly, my little Tigress**

**I just can't win, can I?**

**Tom: Finally you admit what I've been telling you from day one.**

**Me: Tom what did I say about using Legilimency? You're definitely not getting any tonight, from me or from Hermione!**

**Tom: You know you love me really and wouldn't want me any other way.**

**Me: Men.**

**Please R&R!**


	10. I Dream Of You

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**I'm back! Sorry I just got caught up in another fanfiction I am writing. I really need to learn to balance myself better**

**Tom: You got that one right.**

**Me: Tom, shut it!**

**Anyway please enjoy!**

* * *

Hermione was floating, darkness filling her mind and vision. She was deaf and blind, and the sensation was peaceful.

_Hermione, open your eyes…_

She wanted to groan and tell that annoying voice to shut the hell up and go away!

_I know you do, dearest, but it is really time for you to open your eyes…_

That voice, melodic and seductive, had Hermione sighing in defeat.

She opened her eyes.

* * *

To a winter wonderland that was frighteningly familiar. She stood in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, decked out as it had been nearly eighteen months ago, during the Yule Ball. Silver icicles hung from the ceiling, as snowflakes as delicate as glass floated in the air around her. Unlike before there was no tables on the diamond-encrusted floor, as sylvan mist swirled around her, and hauntingly beautiful music played around her.

She moved forward, into the mist, and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Her long bushy hair was smoothed into that familiar sleek style, pinned by diamond starbursts in her hair, except for three ringlets lying against the column of her neck. Instead of the gauzy pink gown she remembered from the Ball, her figure was shrouded in clinging emerald green silk and tulle, her Pendant tucked beneath the silk bodice. The ruffled skirts swirled around her ankles as she glided forward, looking around desperately.

Then a familiar voice sent shivers down her spine.

"I must say green suits your complexion far better than pink, my dear," it said, and the voice seemed to whisper in her ear. Hermione turned and her eyes fell on the man standing three feet away, leaning with nonchalant grace against a stone pillar. "You wear the colours of Slytherin well."

Hermione stared at him as memory came rushing back. "Voldemort…"

He looked nothing like she had last seen him. Instead of his gleaming white skin, there was a flush of red blood beneath his sculpted face, his bald head covered by sable waves of hair. Green eyes studied her piercingly in his handsome face, his eyes following the drape of her skirts over her lower body. He was clothed in a dark suit, one that clung to his moderately muscled frame as he pushed away from the wall and stalked towards her.

"You look surprised, my dear. It becomes you," he smiled at her, as she tried to back away, her eyes flaring wide. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her against him, eliciting a strangled gasp from Hermione.

Slowly they began to dance, their bodies shifting sensuously against one another, as they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Hermione gulped, her eyes fixed on the slender column of his neck at eye-level. Slowly she looked up and into his eyes.

"Why am I here? Where am I?" she asked in quick succession. He smirked.

"Such inane questions, yet prudent as well. Well firstly, my dear-" he began before Hermione interrupted him.

"I am not your dear!" she snarled, trying to back out of his arms, but they just tightened, pulling her even closer.

"Don't interrupt me again, Hermione," he said, silky and quiet, bending his head so he spoke into her ear. "You won't enjoy the consequences. Now the reason you're here is simple: You are the Heiress of Ravenclaw. I am the Heir of Slytherin. We belong together, our power united as one."

"I know you're the Heir of Slytherin. Your Basilisk decided to turn me into a statue during my second year," she told him archly. He smirked.

"Ahh yes. Interesting trick with the mirror. Very clever," he mused, his eyes unfocussed. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Get out of my head. I know you're there, so get out," she said, tilting her jaw defiantly. Then Voldemort did something she hadn't expected. He leaned forward and caressed her jaw with his lips, as Hermione's knees nearly buckled. Her neck arched, her eyes fluttering closed, her body betraying her. She felt him raise his head, and she opened her eyes to gaze into his. Her lips throbbed, her body tautening with that remembered yearning she'd experienced not long ago.

"I don't think you want us to leave just yet. Oh yes, Hermione," he grinned at her jerk of surprise. "We are in your mind, in a construct of your memories. I made this place for you, whilst your conscious mind is otherwise…indisposed,"

"You mean I'm unconscious? So I'm dreaming?" she said, frowning. But why?

Suddenly she was spun around, and her back forced against his chest, his arms holding her prisoner.

"Clearly that Muggle-loving fool did not bother to illuminate the details of our bond, Hermione. In order for our power to unite, we must become one in all ways. Mentally and physically," he grinned, as Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

"You mean…? That's disgusting!" she exploded, her mind reeling in surprise. Voldemort chuckled against her neck, his breath sending shivers down every nerve in her body.

"Really, is the thought so repugnant? I know you have dreamed of our last union, when you were Phyllida Raven. I can feel your mind responding to me right now, dearest. Stop trying to fool yourself."

"But why are you screwing around with my head? If you want my body, why can't you just take it?" Hermione asked, trying to remain calm and subjective. The very thought of giving herself to Lord Voldemort, the way Phyllida had done, was…..just wrong.

"So impatient, my little one?" he continued to smirk against her skin, when he placed a hungry open-mouthed kiss against her pulse. It rocketed upwards, as Hermione felt a small moan escape her lips. "You are already mine, darling. But allow me to explain; from the moment I touch you with my bare skin, or vice versa, a time limit awakens within the bond. One month for the bond to be completed, otherwise the power of the Pendants will begin to work against the Heirs. All logical thought is stripped away, until only the need to become one would remain in our minds. The longing and the compulsion would build with every encounter, until they are irresistible. The punishment for resisting is excruciating pain at separation. Trust me, I tried to resist Phyllida and she me, for the longest time. It was only when we touched for the first time, in our sixth year, that our bond was activated. Before that, I wasn't even aware of the existence of an Heiress at Hogwarts. But once we were, it became inevitable. As is ours, Hermione, but I would prefer not to have a time limit in which to sway you to my side. Here, in your mind, we are safe from the bond," he explained coolly, yet Hermione felt a sliver of fear run through her. She would have no choice in the matter; join him, or he'd activate the time limit on the bond, and she would become his whether she liked it or not.

"You are unbelievable! Do I not get a say in this!" she cried unthinkingly. A second later she rolled her eyes. Of course not.

"You lost your say the moment you were born, Hermione. You and your destiny are mine now," he said silkily. Hermione gritted her teeth against the feelings rising under her skin as they revolved to the haunting violin music. A second later her brow quirked. This would annoy him no end.

"My destiny is mine to decide…Tom," she sighed. "And if this is my mind I can have some say here,"

She felt him shake his head. "You forget I can see everything in your mind, Hermione. You can't annoy me by using that name, so don't bother trying."

But Hermione thought she detected a slight frisson in his voice, one that had her grinning. "Whatever you say, Tom,"

"Let's see how clever you think you are, Hermione," he growled against her neck, before she was swung around and pulled against his torso. Hermione blinked at finding herself so close to the Dark Lord, and gulped, her lips tingling.

Voldemort's eyes glittered with an inner fire, his being alive with power. She could feel it brush her skin, the surface of her mind. He bent his head, and his lips brushed hers. Hermione felt any control disappear, as she stretched upwards in his arms, tracking his lips. He smiled smugly, before giving her what she wanted.

Warmth swiped across her lips, and Hermione sighed, opening her mouth before she sank against him. He took control instantly, pouring molten desire down her veins, silk shushing between them as she shifted against him. She had no idea what she was doing; she was just acting on instinct. He pulled her closer, as his hands left her waist to trail over her body, exploring all he intended to claim one day.

A second later he groaned. Salazar, what this witch was doing to him! And he thought her entirely innocent. Not even close.

Tom forced her closer, crushing her against him as their tongues duelled with urgency, heat building intensely between them. Hermione cried out into his mouth when one hand slid over her breast, claiming her body. Ok, only her mental body but still…

Hermione was dimly aware of the music disappearing, as she was walked backwards until her back hit something solid. Wood?

A second later it didn't matter because Tom's-_**Voldemort's**_-hands swept down her back, pulling her hard against him and the hardness cradled by her stomach. She gasped into his mouth, running her hands through his hair almost frantically, desperate to get even closer. Conscious thought had long since disappeared, along with the disgust Hermione knew she should have been feeling at her intimacy with the Dark Lord.

Tom's hands rose up her body, coming to rest on her shoulders before they moved sideways, taking the sleeves of her dress with them. The gown collapsed with a sibilant _swoosh_ of silk, and Hermione felt no shame as she just pressed closer to him. Abruptly, he shoved her away roughly, and she fell back with a gasp onto something soft. She was dimly aware of velvet blankets underneath her skin, the sensation of the material brushing her skin muted by the pure desire rushing through her. She met his eyes, her spine arching unconsciously.

Tom's eyes ran over her nude body, taking in her enthralling beauty.

"Soon, Hermione, you will call me 'Master', and it will be my great pleasure to awaken all the darkness within you. We will be unstoppable," he murmured, a triumphant smile lighting his features, his dark eyes gleaming red.

Those were the wrong words to say.

With a rush, the lethargy affecting her limbs disappeared and reason returned with a rush. She breathed freer when Hermione realised she could feel him in her mind, and feel the bonds he held her in to keep her unconscious.

With a flick of her mind, drawing on all her strength, Hermione sat bolt upright.

* * *

"NO!"

Hermione awoke on a soft bed, hung with dusty green curtains, and her eyes immediately met the burning, malevolent ones of Lord Voldemort.

Inhaling raggedly, she determinedly stared him down, the Pendant of Ravenclaw glowing on her chest.

"You will never be my master," she snarled fiercely, brushing her unruly brown locks from her face. "Never."

* * *

**Me: so yeah, sorry again for the long delay and the shortness of this chapter, but school is just so hectic!**

**Tom: That's no excuse, Tigress. I could write a hundred essays in the time it took you to do one.**

**Me: You know, I really didn't miss you while you were gone.**

**Tom: sure you did (Leans towards me seductively)**

**Me: How about no? After all I had these three lovely boys….(leans back into the embrace of three gorgeous men, Carver Doone, Lord Nelson Rathbone and Aro of the Volturi)….to help me whilst you were away.**

**Tom: (Snorts in disgust) You replace me with a dead guy, and two muggles? You have no taste, Tigress.**

**Me: (raises eyebrow) No taste, Tom? You can't talk! Hypocrite!**

**Tom: Me, a hypocrite! You're the one who's lying very contentedly in the arms of, and I repeat, a dead guy, and two muggles!**

**Me: What does that have to do with my being a hypocrite?**

**Aro: it doesn't.**

**Tom: Oh shut it, Fang boy, before I get mad.**

**Aro: And that's supposed to scare me how exactly?**

**Me: Now, now Aro, stop baiting him dear. Besides, Tom, they may be undead or muggles, but there are compensations...**

**Tom's eyes narrow.**

**Me:...for example Aro never gets tired, and his stamina is astounding. Nelson back here (Nelson leans down for a kiss) can handle his sabre very well. Very, very well indeed. And Carver...well every girl like a bit of brawn instead of brain every now and again.**

**Carver: Hey! I might have to punish you later for that, my Tigress...**

**Me: He's a bit possessive though. Threatened to shoot me through the heart if I didn't finish writing his fanfiction.**

**Tom: I can't believe you replaced me! After all I've given you, Tigress!**

**Me: Excuse me? Who ran off with Hermione Granger and left me all alone? Huh? You brought this on yourself, Snake-Boy!**

**Tom just glares at me, in a very sexy manner.**

**Me( sighing heavily): Fine, I still love you. Now you three back to your fandoms. I'll deal with you shortly.**

**Aro: Adieu, mía stella. Parting is such sweet sorrow...(kisses my hand)**

**Tom ( Muttering): Smug prick.**

**Carver: See you later, lover. (Yanks my head back and kisses me passionately)**

**Me: Ooh, I just got a new idea for your story. But next time...not so rough.**

**Carver: You know you love it, my Tigress (Winks at me as I blush and Tom glares)**

**Nelson: I'll be seeing you soon, my darling. (smirks seductively as he darts a glance at Tom) We still need to work on your riposte, my dear. Your... skill with my sabre are still not quite up to scratch. You just need practice.**

**Tom: WHAAAT!**

**Me: Cool it, Snakey. **

**Nelson: Whoops.**

**Me: Yeah, 'whoops'. See you soon honey (blows a kiss).**

**(Nelson places a daring kiss on my neck as Tom looks ready to explode)**

**(Nelson, Carver and Aro vanish)**

**Me: What?**

**Tom: I will personally ensure you will never want any of those...idiots again.**

**Me: You can't be my muse in every fandom, Tommy. You have to learn to share.**

**Tom: Never (He grabs me and throws me under him)**

**Nagini: Those two are at it again. The next chapter won't be long in coming trust me, with that going on!**

**(Much later on)**

**Tom: was I good, or was I good?**

**Me: Smug Slytherin. I dunno, you're on par with Nelson and Aro. Carver on the other hand...(fanning myself with my hand teasingly as Tom growls)**

**Tom: I will take great pleasure in petrifying those...cretins permanently.**

**Me: You will not. I'm not neglecting my other fandoms for you, hon, so get used to it! By the way have you met my muse for the Doctor Who fandom? The Master and the Doctor...? Who knew a binary cardiovascular system could do tha...?**

**Tom: I don't want to know**

**Next chapter up soon, hopefully.**


	11. Weakening

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**No conversations with Tom today, I'm afraid. I've got a massive headache so I put a semi-permanent Silencing charm on him. It should wear off in about…twelve hours, maybe…?**

* * *

Two weeks.

Two _bloody_ weeks!

Hermione felt like hurling a Blasting curse at the wall, as she paced the tiny room that was her prison in Lestrange Manor. Instead she paced a well-worn path into the bare wooden boards, glaring impotently at the window.

Unfortunately she didn't have her wand anymore, since He-Who-Was-A-Pain-In-The Arse had confiscated it.

The Pendant of Ravenclaw flared on her chest, beneath her shirt and she gritted her teeth.

"Don't you dare!" she muttered under her breath, at the familiar feel of _him_ trying to probe her mental defences. Thankfully, he hadn't managed to break them whilst she was awake, but when she was asleep…

Hermione shuddered.

The man was persistent she gave him that. Every night, she had to search anew for the resolution to resist him. He called to everything dark and sensual within the by-the-book Gryffindor Prefect.

Just the memory of his leather-clad hands gliding over her skin and hair had the teenager shivering.

_You could have that for real, any time dearest. Just give into me…_

With a sigh, Hermione opened her mind to his.

This telepathy had been something they had discovered over the first few days, and it was an annoyance to both of them, although neither let on to the other.

_I told you, over my dead body! So unless you're a necrophiliac, get used to it…_

_Hmm, is someone frustrated today, Hermione?_

_Don't you have anything better to do than snoop around in my head, like murder some innocent Muggles that never did you any harm?_ Hermione thought snarkily, before flouncing away from the bed and striding to look out the window. Outside, the summer sun burnt down on the dilapidated grounds of the ancestral Lestrange home.

"My, my Hermione you **are **frustrated," a familiar voice suddenly spoke behind her, as she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Don't you knock?" she asked sarcastically. Inwardly she was surprised by how unafraid of him she had become. A moment later she felt his cool breath brushing the skin of her neck as he moved her hair aside, and then his wiry, yet strong arm twined itself around her waist, pulling her back against his robed body.

"You should know the answer to that by now, Hermione," he murmured, his magic already sweeping over her body. She moaned and arched back against him, even as his gloved hands glided over her body.

"You don't give up do you?" she murmured, "I'd have thought you would know a lost, Mudblood case when you see one."

"I have until the rest of eternity to turn you, darling," he replied quietly, before his eyes darted to the side. By her bed, was stacked nine or ten Dark Arts books, all unopened.

"Darling? It's darling now? Last week it was 'Mudblood' this, and 'Insolent witch' that, did someone hit you with a Confunding charm?" Hermione snorted, using Tom's distraction to wrench free.

"Of course. Or have you forgotten something?" Tom asked rhetorically, before he grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her back against the wall. There was less than an inch of air between their bodies, but he managed to eliminate even that, as he brought his own mouth close to hers.

* * *

Hermione's breath hitched. So far Tom-Voldemort hadn't touched her in the few weeks she'd been here, hadn't come near her except in her dreams. He'd sent her books from the Lestrange library, books of such Dark Magic she'd been shocked and yet also intrigued. So obviously, she hadn't read a single word of any of them.

But what had changed to bring Tom-Voldemort so close to her now? She'd never seen him, not even in her dreams, this close to losing control. Fear spiked in her breast, and she felt the Pendant of Ravenclaw flare, as power flooded her body.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, instinctively reaching out with her magic to throw him away. Dark power wreathed her being, invaded her aura as she used the full force of the Pendant.

Tom smiled grimly at the power building in his little witch's body, felt the purely Dark energy rise within her. Exactly the response he was looking to provoke…

So he was prepared when the tidal wave of power was set free, uncontrolled and wild, and flew towards him. He contracted his hand, using his own power to fight it down, so instead of being blasted through the wall, and probably to kingdom come, he was merely pushed back a few metres.

"Bravo, my dear," he hissed, a satisfied smirk dawning on his lips, his eyes glowing with anticipation. Hermione gasped, as the glow from her Pendant faded, and she realised what she had done.

"You…did that on purpose, didn't you?" she gazed at him, nonplussed. His smug smirk was all the answer she needed.

"Feeling frustrated, Hermione?" he asked again, steadily pacing nearer. Hermione unconsciously stepped back against the wall, her eyes distant.

"You kept me here, locked up like this so I would…" she began, but was cut off by Tom.

"So you would let all that impotent anger, frustration and desire build up until it reached bursting point? Yes, I knew it was only a matter of time, before all those negative emotions were converted into Dark power by your Pendant. It just needed the right…stimulus, my little witch," he explained silkily, as Hermione glared at him.

"You sneaky…..Slytherin bastard!" she exploded angrily, wishing she didn't have to rely on her too-unpredictable emotions to blast him to hell where he belonged.

Tom's eyes darkened with equal parts amusement and annoyance at her cheek.

"And you're an insolent, fool of a Gryffindor!" he replied coldly, at which Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"I've scored marks just as high as yours, thank you very much, Tom Riddle!" she snarled angrily. She didn't move as he stalked closer, until her breasts brushed his chest, obstinately looking him in the eye.

"You should cower and fall to your knees in fear, when I approach," he murmured darkly, his gaze running over her body. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Oh I probably will, but not in fear. It'll be from sheer incredulity at the size and audacity of your ego!" she retorted.

"Cheeky today, aren't we?" Tom murmured, before he took her arms in his hands, forcing her even harder against him. She gasped, as his power flared and rushed over her body, sinking into her mind, forcing her to submit to him.

"Tom!" she gasped, grabbing ahold of his robes to stop herself from falling to her knees. She forced herself to keep up their eye contact, as her knees weakened and her lungs constricted.

Pleasure rushed through her, as she gasped, still defiantly staring into his crimson eyes.

Tom marvelled at the strength he saw in her eyes, frustrating and exciting at the same time.

"And this is why you are a fool, Hermione Granger," he murmured, as the witch in his arms almost cried out from a mixture of pain and pleasure, at the feel of red-hot hands ghosting over her bare skin.

* * *

Hermione gasped at the feel of phantoms hands stroking her skin, her Pendant glowing intensely, its sapphire incandescence matching that of Tom's emerald one. But she refused to lower her eyes from the fiend in front of her, as her body broke and she collapsed into his arms, bliss and peace washing through her limbs.

Tom took her weight as she collapsed into his arms, before he laid her on the bed. His gloved hands caressed her hair, almost tenderly, before standing straight before her.

"I can feel your need, Hermione. Why fight me, when I can offer you what no-one else can?" he asked quietly, musingly.

On the bed, Hermione slowly returned to sanity, when she heard his question, and answered it with one of her own.

"Why do you want someone like me? Someone whose bloodline you hate and is young enough to be your granddaughter!" she retorted weakly. "Don't you see that what we're both experiencing isn't real?"

"That, my dear, depends on one's perception of reality," Tom countered, yet the comment was so softly spoken it was to himself alone.

"It all comes from the Pendants, nothing more," Hermione continued, and she couldn't quite distance herself from the sinking sensation in her heart. A moment later she berated herself for it. She would not feel pity or any other emotion for a cold-hearted murderer like Tom!

"You think so?" he replied enigmatically before, in an abrupt turn, he left in a swirl of robes. Hermione stared after him, her jaw ever so slightly dropping.


	12. A Deal With The Devil Is Not A Good Idea

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**Me: oh dear, this is not good.....**

**Tom: What isn't?**

**Me: (after whacking him around the head) You know what! **

**Tom: but why isn't it good? On the contrary I think I'm rather spectacular in this chapter.**

**Author rolls eyes heavily. Me: You would, now shut up and let them read, Snake-Boy!**

**Sheesh!**

* * *

Hermione tossed and turned that night, Volde-...._Tom's_ parting words still running through her mind. What did he mean...?

Sighing in the darkness, she rolled over and stared at the lone candle casting a dim glow against the aged plaster of the wall. Gradually, her eyes began to creep closed, as exhaustion took over, and unbeknownst to her, the Pendant of Ravenclaw began to gleam with an almost gleeful sapphire shine.

_Phyllida shuddered as familiar cold fingers traced her bare shoulder, as she lay in their bed. It had been several weeks since Tom had come to take her away from her family home, and something in Phyllida's mind was telling that not all was right. But right then, her mind was equally as occupied with those clever, strong fingers currently tracing paths of fire across her skin._

_They lovingly traced the sapphire eagle resting on her breast, above the coverlet, before rising up the slender column of her neck to her hair, where cool lips pressed against her trailing chestnut tresses. Phyllida shivered, as their bond awoke, and she turned her head to look into deep emerald eyes, so dark they were almost black. They lingered on hers, possessively, before dropping to her lips. As if in answer to his hunger, Phyllida's lips began to throb, already parting, yearning for his kiss. He drew her torture out, slowly lowering his head to hers, until their lips were brushing. She tried to raise her lips to him, but his sudden hard grip in her hair restrained her. When his lips did make their conquest, it was hard and brutal and all-consuming, so much so that she could not fight back...._

_In that moment, nothing existed, except him. _

Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed; sweat plastering her hair to her face, as she wrenched her mind from nightmare.

That no-good, sneaky, duplicitous, cheating....Slytherin!

A moment later, Hermione groaned feelingly. How the hell was she ever to get any sleep if he was constantly disturbing her night-time dreaming with his perverted way of trying to seduce her! Sighing through gritted teeth, Hermione opened up their mental link.

This had to stop, and she would do anything to make it stop. Well, almost anything.

_Tom!_

Nothing.

_Tom!_

Silence in her mind. With another sigh through gritted teeth, Hermione took a deep breath. _TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE! ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW OR I WILL ENSURE YOU HAVE A MIAGRAINE TOMORROW MORNING!_

_Now, now, Hermione no need to shout....._

At last, contact!

_Took you long enough! Too busy murdering innocent people were we? _Hermione thought snarkily, huffing to herself.

"No need for the sarcasm either," his silky voice said in her ear, and she almost had a heart attack as she spun around in her bed, to find Tom sitting quite comfortably with his back against the bedpost, amusement in those red eyes. He folded his arms in a display of domineering grace, as Hermione gulped and faced him.

"Don't you knock?" she muttered, even though she knew the answer. Tom sighed impatiently, his snake-nostrils flaring wide in amused annoyance.

"We've had this conversation before," he sighed.

"Well we're going to keep having it until you learn, _Tom_. I thought you were supposed to be smart!" Hermione snorted derisively, forgetting her danger. Tom's eyes flashed as his gloved hand shot out and clutched her throat. Abruptly pain slashed through her body, as she screamed and collapsed; only held up by his grip on her neck.

"Be careful Hermione. Your insolence is amusing, but I don't need to use the Cruciatus curse when it ceases to be so. I thought you might have learnt that by now, or are all Gryffindors this dim-witted?"

Tom's words were a bitter whisper in her ear, as the pain under her skin mounted higher for one excruciating moment before it eased. So did his hold on her, as Hermione slumped back on her pillows, panting, her eyes wide. Tom gazed into those cinnamon orbs, glowing with pain and anger, and felt himself shudder.

Soon.

He murmured that word to himself, but she was unable to hear it.

"Are...all Slytherins...this incoherent...when...they talk....to themselves?" she panted aloud, fighting to slow down her breathing and heart rate, her muscles protesting.

"My stubborn little witch," Tom breathed, shaking his head, but he was not angered this time. Reaching out one hand he tucked aside a strand of her hair, stroking her skin. He saw, with satisfaction, that she could not suppress a shiver, desire sparking in those entrancing eyes. "Now why did you call me so rudely from my rest?"

Hermione struggled to remember the reason why she had called him, as she became entranced by those red eyes. Her Pendant gleamed on her chest, matching the emerald glow of his, tucked just out of sight by his robes.

"Ahhhh....I-I wanted to offer a truce," she stuttered, before indignation rose, and she mentally yelled at herself, _Stop being such an idiot, Hermione Granger!_

"Oh? And why would I need a truce with you, Miss Granger, unless you have decided to give in?" Tom cocked his head to the side, watching her with almost feline intensity. Hermione shivered but shook her head purposefully.

"Over my dead body!" she snarled abruptly, glaring at him, her expressive eyes becoming two catlike slits.

"Now why would you want that? Your body is so much more preferable alive and warm, dearest," Tom said suggestively, moving closer as Hermione was backed up against the head board of her bed. Her breath hitched but she was determined to carry on.

"If I read some of those Dark Arts books, then I want you to leave me alone and stop tampering with my dreams. For every book I read, I want one night's undisturbed sleep, agreed?" she said clearly, refusing to lower her eyes from his.

Tom regarded the little witch with speculative eyes. He didn't need to give into her request, if that was you could call it. He held all the cards here, seeing as she was unable to control her power yet and their location was Unplottable so Dumbledore could not find them. Yet, it might sway her, the knowledge contained within those books, might be the key to making her fall. And then she would be his.

"You have three days," he said, nodding once as he sat up and allowed her breathing space. Hermione gaped at him.

"Three days? How can I read all of these in three days?" she asked him caustically, glaring. Tom sighed. It seemed the one person who was not intimidated by his very presence, let alone his appearance was the one person who happened to be his magical other half.

Typical.

"Then I suggest you start reading in the morning," he said smoothly, before Apparating away in a swirl of robes. Hermione let loose a growl of frustration as she flopped back onto her bed.

"Looks like I've got no choice in the matter," she groaned, before reaching blindly for a book on the side table.

_You haven't dearest...._

Tom's husky chuckle in her ear, so different from his high cold laugh, sent shivers down her spine.

_Go to hell, Riddle! _She thought back, before grumpily taking hold of her book and reading the cover.

_The Dark Side of the Light: by E. Val_

"Sounds cheery," Hermione muttered, before sighing and turning the first page, settling down for a long night.

* * *

**Tom: OOOOH, you cut the good bit out!**

**Me: That's what you get for being a smug little ass. Grow up, it'll be in the next one!**


	13. Falling

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**Me: let's talk at the end.**

**Tom: Yeah, bring on the smut!**

**Me: For God's sake Tom! Typical man!**

**Tom: I'm no….**

**Me: DON'T! Just let them read, Snake-Boy!**

**(Tom grumbling in the corner)**

* * *

Tom strode down the corridor leading to Hermione's chamber, his black robes swirling around him. A pleased smile hung about his lips, anticipating the sight he would come across, as he waved aside the hooded Death Eater standing guard. Beneath the heavy black material, he sensed the man yawn.

Now that simply wouldn't do. His Death Eaters needed to remain alert at all times.

Without so much as thinking, Tom contracted his fist, using the wandless magic which was so natural to him.

"_Crucio_!" he intoned, as the hooded man collapsed with a scream of pain. After a minute, Tom muted his screams, as they shot through his skull. After a moment, he lifted the spell, and looked down on the now panting Death Eater.

"I can't have my Death Eater sleeping on the job now can I?" he asked rhetorically, before stepping through into Hermione's cell/room.

* * *

"Such a lovely wake-up call," a familiar voice called from across the room, as Tom looked around for her. Hermione sat on the window seat, a book open across her lap. The sunlight caressed her pale skin, paler from its two weeks in a dark room, her honey-gold hair fading to a slightly darker shade of brown, tumbling in curls around her shoulders.

Her sarcastic comment rang between them, as Tom's red eyes met Hermione's across the room. She saw the amusement rise, a now familiar sight, and felt her heart flutter, as the Pendant glowed on her chest, hidden by her shirt.

_Damn it, Hermione, stop it!_ she shouted at herself. She would **not **fall for the Dark Lord. Absolutely not.

"Well, I could change that," Tom said seductively, and she saw in his red eyes the sensual promise and the power she was beginning to yearn for.

For a moment, she let herself imagine waking up beside him, feeling his lips, his hands on her skin as she allowed him to roll her over…

_NO!_

Hermione shuddered, and brushed the fantasy away, reminding herself to give her psyche a little pep talk later. Re: no more perverted fantasies about the Dark Lord.

"No thank you," she replied curtly, turning back to her book. Tom's eyes drifted to the side table, and saw three books stacked up, obviously read. A slight smirk tugged at his lips.

"My, my, my Hermione. Three books in one night. Did you sleep at all?" he asked, mock-sternly, eying her speculatively. She didn't seem tired, and the grey shadows under her eyes had begun to fade. She shrugged dismissively.

"The theory isn't exactly difficult to grasp. It wasn't difficult to read them quickly, indeed a toddler could read them in as little a span of time," she snorted derisively, rolling her eyes. Tom chuckled appreciatively.

"So, Little Miss Perfect finds the books of Dark Magic too easy to grasp? My, my what would Dumbledore say?" he teased her, walking forward to lean against the window in front of her, blocking off her light. She looked up at him, annoyed, but letting the comment slide. She wasn't in the mood for his verbal gambits. "What? No witty retort, Granger? You're getting rusty my dear,"

"You wanted me to read these books, _Tom_. So just go away and let me finish these abhorrent books already," she muttered haughtily, shifting her slightly uncomfortable position against the window.

* * *

Abruptly he plucked the book out of her hand, and tossed it away. Ignoring her yell of surprise and annoyance, he swept around and took her chin in his hand.

"Be careful, Hermione. I know you have a high tolerance for the Cruciatus curse, but it is still unwise to provoke me, my dear," he told her, leaning in close so their lips nearly brushed. Hermione jerked back from the move, sensing the danger. Already flickers of want had erupted in her abdomen, pooling lower as her gaze inadvertently lowered to his lips.

Finally Tom freed her, and she slumped back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and seated himself on the bed.

"Now, I think we should have a discussion about the books, just to check you've read them thoroughly," he said teasingly, as Hermione's eyes spat sparks.

"Of course I read them thoroughly," she scoffed. "And they're utterly disgusting. Whoever wrote them obviously had a screw loose. It wasn't you was it?" she suddenly added cheekily, as Tom just looked at her.

"Why so disgusting, my dear? I can sense the curiosity in your mind, so stop trying to dissemble," he replied, cocking his head to one side. Hermione looked down, at which Tom leant forward and used two fingers to tilt her chin up, so her eyes met his. "No need to be shy, my dear. Curiosity is not a sin."

"You know what they say: curiosity killed the cat," she smiled weakly, still trying to avert her eyes.

"Do you know what I have always said, Hermione? There is no good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it. There is no Light and Dark," Tom replied, almost lovingly as he watched her proud head bow. "What is chosen by Light or Dark is chosen by the victors. History is written by the perspective of the winners, and so is this. Your precious 'Light' side claims that the mysteries of the Dark are evil, but what of in-between? Are there no shades of grey? If a supposedly 'Dark' potion saved someone's life, would you call that evil?" he asked her, as Hermione raised her eyes to his.

"No, I could not. But ultimately what makes magic good or evil is the use you put it to," she argued, and Tom inclined his head.

"Ah, yes, but what about perspective? What I have done seems to you to be evil, but to me it is not. Good and evil are a matter of perspective: one man's good is another man's evil," he retorted calmly. Hermione stared at him, wide-eyed. She didn't want to admit it, but she was tired, and her brain just couldn't quite keep up today. Not to mention that she secretly thought Tom had a point.

Wait had they just been having a civil conversation?

* * *

A moment later she felt Tom's hand on her cheek, and looked up.

"Think about what I have said, Hermione, whilst I am gone," he said coolly, and she stared at him.

"You're leaving?" she asked, bewildered and strangely forlorn. The thought of the routine she'd had for weeks being disrupted discomfited her. It had to be that.

"For only a few days. You are welcome to use my personal library whilst I'm away," he said, waving his head in a circular motion at the wall, and Hermione's eyes grew wide as a door appeared in her wall. "But do not try to escape, Hermione, lest I regret giving you this freedom," he said sternly, forcing Hermione to look at him, and she did so defiantly. "There are no other doors in that room, and no windows. You cannot escape."

"Try me," she muttered, smiling up at him innocently. Tom's eyes narrowed, before he stood in a swirl of black robes.

_Oh, believe me dear, I plan to_

And with that final communication through their bond, he Apparated through the wards and left Hermione alone.

* * *

Two days later, Hermione sat down on the chaise in the library, with a disgruntled huff.

She didn't want to admit it to herself but she was bored. Bored out of her brains.

Voldemort's library was impressive, she gave him that, and she'd found numerous volumes on different subjects, not just Dark Magic. Currently she was immersed in a book of Arithmancy, and she forlornly picked through its pages.

Today, she just didn't find it as alluring as she had. She was restless, dissatisfied, when she knew she should have been revelling in her freedom, and trying to find a way out. A way to escape Tom.

With a sigh, Hermione laid her head back against the pillows, in front of the crackling fire, and looked dreamily into its depths, closing the book and putting it on the floor beside her.

When had she started calling _him_ Tom? Why, when he had ceased to be that perfect, handsome Prefect?

In her unruly heart, she knew the answer to that. No matter how he tried to run from it, he was _Tom_. It was who he was, no matter what new name he came up with to try to destroy it. He could run from it, obscure his former identity, but it would always remain with him, an integral part of his self. He couldn't run from it, forever.

A heavy weight on her leg made Hermione jump, before she recognised the cool weight of Nagini.

"Hello, Nagini," she sighed, relaxing back into the pillows and absentmindedly lifting her hand to stroke the snake's diamond-patterned head. The snake leant in her hand, obviously enjoying the contact, as it closed its eyes and coiled atop Hermione's torso and legs. Sighing once more, Hermione snuggled into the chaise, secretly enjoying Nagini's cooling weight atop her, juxtaposing against the warmth of the fire.

She would never tell anyone, but the snake's weight was comforting, reminding her of the absence causing her soul to cry out involuntarily.

So thinking, Hermione fell asleep in front of the fire.

* * *

Tom Apparated back into the Lestrange Manor, a pleased smile on his lips. The Malfoy boy had today taken his first step towards either taking his father's place, or punishing Lucius for that fiasco at the Ministry. Soon, he would be free of Dumbledore forever.

So feeling very pleased, he swept along the corridor to Hermione's cell/chamber, dismissing the Death Eater present, and entering her room. It was empty. Frowning slightly Tom looked around and then remembered he had allowed her free run of his library.

Turning to the door, he followed the winding stairway down to the darkened stone room, boasting an arched ceiling almost like a cathedral, with bookcase upon bookcase of both Dark and Light magic, and more besides lined in disciplined rows across the room. At the very end of the room stood a large marble hearth, in front of which stood a luxurious chaise, flanked by two towering candelabrums, candles alight and dripping golden wax onto the stone floor. Tom looked around, frowning, seeing no sign of Hermione until he heard the sound of gentle breathing. His head turned to the chaise, as he rounded it and found Hermione lying there; Nagini coiled around her almost like a pet dog, except the moment Tom appeared at her side, the snake's emerald eyes flicked open.

_Any trouble? _Tom asked in Parseltongue.

_None, Master. _Nagini answered, before carefully slipping off Hermione and slithering away, recognising her Master's need for privacy.

Tom was surprised by the lack of an escape attempt from the fiery witch lying before him. Was she finally weakening?

He was glad of it, because he was becoming increasingly desperate. Never had he experienced such a straining of his control before

Unbeknownst to Tom, and Hermione, their Pendants flared, and suddenly all coherent reason fled from Tom's mind. Why shouldn't he activate the bond now?

He sat beside her, and reached out a hand to brush aside her hair, and caught sight of her rosy lips, warmed by the roaring fire nearby, driving away the chill of the room. His body tensing, Tom bent his head and lowered his lips to Hermione's.

* * *

Hermione became aware of cold lips pressed to her own, as a wave of lust rushed through her, compulsive need driving her beyond recognition of the danger she was in.

_What have you done?_

So screamed her mind, before it was swamped beneath a tidal wave of passion and need, desire tensing her muscles as she succumbed to the flickering flames waiting to devour them both.

She snaked her arms around his neck, and pulled him to her, opening her mouth and deepening the kiss. Tom's arms pulled her up, crushing her against him, as his mouth devoured hers, their tongues twining and exploring, passionately coveting one another.

Without thought, or conscience, or regret Hermione sank into the Dark Lord's arms, as their twin Pendants shone on their chest, pressed together as one.

The eagle and the serpent, united as one.

* * *

**Tom:** Oh you still left out the best bit!

**Me:** God you whine like a child! It's coming in the next bit, I promise. Please R&R! In the meantime, Tom inspiration time!

**Tom:** Now she asks me.

**Me:** The next one's going to be hot I promise you!


	14. The Truth

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

Hermione knew she was insane. She'd known it for ages. She was insane.

Because that was the only way she could be lying on a chaise with the Dark Lord and kissing him as desperately and as passionately as he was kissing her. His robes swirled around them, deflecting the heat of the fire but Hermione didn't need the heat of the fire. She burned in one of her own.

Tom's hands slid beneath her shirt, caressing her soft skin, as he groaned into her mouth, a sound of pleasure she returned wholeheartedly. Their tongues twined and fought for dominance, as he broke from her mouth and switched his attention to her neck, straining at the buttons of her shirt to reach her skin.

Now she really knew she was insane.

Hermione clutched his head to keep him close to her, revelling in the feel of his skin inching ever closer to her ever more bare flesh.

In some dim part of her logical brain, she was yelling at herself to remind her that this was just the Pendants' doing, nothing else, and that she had to stop this NOW!

But in her darkest recesses of her heart, she knew this had to be more than that. Nothing could force such passion and urgency as this from nothing.

They did say the line between love and hate was very thin indeed.

* * *

_Hermione, shut up!_ her brain yelled, forcing her intelligent half to quiet and enjoy the amazing sensations of Tom's hands on her skin as he began to claim her, their still clothed bodies moving against each other. The friction was delicious.

But Hermione was thrown from her dazed, pleasurable heaven when she felt the most curious sensation under her palms.

It almost felt like hair…

Suddenly Tom stopped, and gasped into her neck, his hand suddenly painfully clutching her to him as a keening sound escaped. It took a moment for Hermione to realise it was coming from him.

"Tom? Tom!" she yelled, trying to push him up to see what was wrong with him, when he suddenly released her. He sat up, and her eyes widened.

And just kept on widening.

Not even the persistent pulsing of the Pendants was able to break through her amazement.

Tom had reverted back to his human looking form.

* * *

His face was as youthful looking and handsome as she remembered from her dreams, his deep green eyes alight but with just a hint of scarlet. His hair was as black as a raven's wing, gleaming with a healthy sheen. There were two little traces of grey at the very edge of his temples, just behind his ears, making him look like a Muggle cartoon hero Hermione distantly remembered from her childhood.

But this man sitting across from her was no hero.

Hermione reached out one hand to his cheek, as he panted for breath, looking unsettled and as astounded as Hermione felt.

"Tom…your face," she breathed. Apart from the grey at his temples, he barely looked a day over twenty. "You've got hair!"

Tom's eyes widened, and Hermione couldn't help but think how cute he looked when he was surprised, as he scrambled from the chaise and across to a mirror hanging over the hearth.

"How…? How did I get like this?" he breathed questioningly. Hermione could only sit, spellbound, until he turned back to her. His face was stormy, and it sent shivers down her spine where his old face hadn't.

"What did you do?" he growled, and Hermione shrunk back, before remembering herself.

"_**I **_didn't do anything," she emphasised clearly, but Tom leapt at her with a growl, pinning her to the chaise's cushions. His hands were steel shackles of flesh around her upper arms, bruising her.

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort! Tell the truth!" he bellowed, as Hermione wriggled in his grip. Fear crept in, even as appreciation for and desire flared at the hard body pressing her into the chaise. She could feel the evidence of his desire against her abdomen still, as their Pendants flared, sapphire mixing with emerald.

"I didn't do anything! I'm not lying!" she yelled, her eyes misting over slightly with tears at his grip. It was becoming painful, as was the longing she felt at wanting to be nearer to him.

Tom's eyes searched her face, and they flashed crimson, before his face softened imperceptibly. Suddenly he released her arms and set his lips to her, kissing her softly.

Taken aback, Hermione returned it until the longing flared up, and she gasped into his mouth.

* * *

It was like a floodgate had opened. Hermione groaned into his mouth, and pulled him closer, their magic and their passion combining to become a heady intoxicant until both were gasping.

Hermione ripped open Tom's robes, kissing him feverishly, as his hands grabbed her waist, pulling her up against him, before one hand slid into her hair. Madness consumed them both, as the Pendants sang.

Tom wrenched his lips from Hermione's, and proceeded to devour her neck, nuzzling the taut column before he sucked the skin, leaving red marks behind. Hermione moaned and arched into his body, biting her lip until it bled, as the yearning racked up another notch.

She slid her hands into his hair, and he groaned against her skin, before he raised his head and kissed her hungrily, urgency rendering their tension to a painful high.

All thought had long since disappeared from her mind, but even in her passion drugged state, Hermione knew she should stop.

She should stop right now.

But as hard she fought, she could not escape him, escape this, escape the revelation that she wanted him so wholeheartedly.

_Have I fallen in love with him?_

That thought alone stopped Hermione, brought her up short. Did she love him?

She couldn't, she wouldn't, he was the Dark Lord.

Oh God….

Suddenly she screamed as an overwhelming pressure swept through her mind, and everything fell away.

* * *

_Phyllida advanced on the bed, her wand now in her hand._

"_You killed them, Tom. You murdered my parents!" she said quietly, yet she was sobbing. She was crying for them, she was crying for herself, she was crying for her little sister Louisa, she was crying for him._

_Tom lay on the bed, wandless, his eyes blazing. "They defied me, and I will not tolerate defiance."_

"_It's a little thing called free will," Phyllida replied coldly._

"_They had it coming, Phyllida. They didn't care about you, they would have married you off to that oaf Cassius without batting an eye. You should be thanking me," he continued quietly, yet triumphantly. Phyllida fought to ignore how seductive he looked, as well as arrogantly unapologetic, lying there on the bed. _

"_That wasn't your decision to make, Tom. I'm sorry, forgive me," she breathed as she raised his wand. But she stopped._

_She looked into his eyes, saw there all she had fallen in love with, all the darkness and the pain and the power. She felt all his anger and his desolation and his suffering, and knew herself to be truly mad. She loved him._

_She could not kill him._

_Her hand trembled, as she hesitated. Tom surged up on his knees and yanked the wand away, as Phyllida collapsed to her knees._

"_I can't," she breathed, pain filling her every cell. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at her lover. "I can't kill you."_

"_You betrayed me, Phyllida," he spoke so softly it was like the purest silk. He raised the wand. "Lord Voldemort does not tolerate treachery."_

"_Yes, that is what you are. Lord Voldemort, a cold heartless thing and yet, I still love you, Tom. I will love you until the end of time," Phyllida Raven whispered, meeting his scarlet eyes as a single tear tracked down her own cheek. Tom's eyes flickered, his hand trembled, and then a green flash-_

_Nothing._

_Tom looked down on the broken body lying on the floor, and felt pain unlike anything he had ever known. And so for the first, and he vowed to himself, and last time he cradled Phyllida's lifeless body, and allowed one single tear to escape._

* * *

Hermione's eyes opened, and she gasped, seeing Tom's face above her. So concerned, so gentle and tender, yet reeking of power and darkness.

He had killed her.

"Hermione?" he breathed, and Hermione sat bolt upright, scrambling away from him, her eyes wide with fear. "What is it, darling?"

For now the Pendants had ceased their spell, yet Hermione felt a heightened state of awareness, of herself, of him and of their surroundings.

The bond had been activated.

"You killed her. She loved you and you killed her," Hermione whispered, painfully quiet.

Tom's face blanked with confusion for a moment, before a cold mask crept over his features.

"It was necessary. She betrayed me," he replied, coldly and callously, making Hermione's skin crawl.

"You killed her parents! You're the reason my grandmother had to leave the magical world! You killed her!" she realised she was shouting, almost hysterical.

"It was necessary," Tom repeated, leaning closer to stroke her cheek. Hermione spat at him, fire in her eyes, and Tom's caress turned into a backhand which sent her flying. She hit the wall and slid down it, pain blocking out all her senses, as she screamed.

"Do not fight me, dearest," he growled, fisting his hand as Hermione felt the pain rise to an all new level, her nerve endings shrieking in agony. She writhed and screamed, but finally it was over as Tom relaxed his hand. She looked up at him through her mussed hair, all her passion extinguished and now focussed solely into her glare.

* * *

Tom had never seen anything so beautiful.

"I hate you," she spat, before her eyes flashed black and a wave of energy flew at him from her hand, as she pushed the air towards him. It was powerful, so powerful it made his ears pop at the pressure. It took all his energy to halt it, at which Hermione sprang to her feet and ran.

Hermione slammed her cell door shut, using all her instinctive magic to ward and lock it. Then she paced.

Her muscles were aching from the mix of torture and pleasure Tom had given her, as she thought.

He was a monster, she couldn't stay, especially not now the bond had been activated.

One month was all she had.

But where could she go? Not back to the Order, or to Dumbledore.

Tom might use her as a spy.

No, no, no, no!

She would have to go into isolated hiding, away from civilisation and everything else. Most especially away from _him_. She couldn't believe she had almost let herself believe there was anything to salvage in him.

He was a monster. Pure and simple.

_Hermione…_

His whisper sounded in her head, but Hermione blocked him out. Her anger and her hatred gave her strength as she turned to the door, the one guarded by a Death Eater.

A grim smile lit her features, making her look scarily like someone feared by the wizarding world. A certain someone Hermione didn't know if she loved or hated at that very moment.

The line between love and hate was very thin.

Hermione blocked out all such thoughts, as she knew what she had to do. Her power was free and rampant, and she was going to use it.

Time to bust out of here.


	15. Running Away

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

Hermione gathered all her power as she faced the door. She didn't know how, or why, but she knew what to do.

She snapped her hand at the door and it burst open, flying off its hinges and hitting the opposite wall. The Death Eater guarding her rushed in, but fell immediately to Hermione's wandless Stunner.

She rushed out into the corridor, and quickly took the first right, leading into a long hall.

Two Death Eaters appeared at the other end, and she smiled with a grim kind of pleasure as they rushed towards her.

She contracted her hand, and then snapped it, sending a wave of concentrated air at the approaching Death Eaters, their cast Stunners absorbed into the energy wave, and strengthening it.

With twin yells, the two Death Eaters were launched off their feet and through the opposite wall.

Hermione paused, breathing deeply as she felt the pure exhilaration of her power. It was like wildfire under her skin, singing in her veins. She had never felt so powerful.

She was more powerful than _him_.

* * *

"Mudblood!" a familiar voice screeched behind her, and Hermione spun to find Bellatrix rushing up, her wand already raised. "Avada-!"

Hermione raised her hand, and threw a wandless Stunner at the Dark witch, one which she struggled to deflect. With a negligent flick of her wrist, she threw her against the wall.

"You'll have to do a lot better than that," Hermione murmured softly, as she stepped over the unconscious witch.

The Pendant shone on her chest as she walked gracefully into another corridor, waving aside two more Death Eaters, her power blinding her to the danger fast approaching.

_Hermione…_

His voice in her head…

* * *

She spun around, and faced Tom, in all his dark glory as he came towards her, his black robes billowing.

Yearning, hot and intoxicating, washed over her, and she gasped, her Pendant glowing brighter and brighter. She was dimly aware of two Death Eaters appearing in the corridor behind her, and she flung them away desperately.

"Hermione, come to me," Tom commanded imperiously, pleasure coursing through every vein of his body at the sight of his powerful little witch. At last her power was free, and she was using it so instinctively. Need warred with anger at her defiance of him as she despatched his Death Eaters, and even now backed away from him. "Don't defy me."

"I am never letting you near me again," she snarled, her long curly hair flying as she cast a Stunner at him, which he waved away lazily.

"Now, now dearest, we know what you are truly capable of. Enough of these childish tricks," Tom replied, holding out his hand and sending a spark of desire along their connection, so she shuddered and nearly fell to her knees. He gritted his teeth against the same urges he felt in her, but he was far older and could resist.

For a while.

"No!" she breathed, and cast another wandless Stunner so fast he had no time to react.

Blackness blasted away his vision.

Hermione gasped in shock as she realised what she had done.

She'd Stunned the Dark Lord!

Oh dear.

Fighting down the urges she felt, she scrambled to her feet and ran, knowing he would not be happy with her.

* * *

She ran through a few more corridors, not meeting too many Death Eaters, and stunning the few she did meet. When she found an alcove, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

She needed her wand. Wandless magic had its uses, but in order to Apparate, she needed a wand.

She inhaled deeply, focussing away from the desire pumping through her blood, and towards a thin connection in her mind. She could feel it, feel her wand and their connection.

It was in the upper rooms of the manor.

Flicking her eyes open, Hermione rushed out of her alcove at a run.

The Lestrange manor was built in three floors, and the uppermost floor was Tom's quarters and those of Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Her cell had been at the northern end of the house, while her wand was located in the southern end.

She ran as fast as she could, reaching the main gallery when she found her path blocked by a group of Death Eaters.

Gathering all her power, she sent out a wave of Dark energy, mixed with the fire of her righteous anger, knocking them off their feet as she rushed over them.

She shouldered her way through one door, feeling the wood impact hard against her shoulder, almost popping it from its socket. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she ran on until a surge of fiery anger and dark power washed over her.

She gasped and fell to her knees.

He was awake, and boy, was he annoyed.

* * *

_You'll pay for that, little witch…_

Hermione screamed as he attacked her body with wave after wave of painful yearning, like his hands were ghosting over her skin yet seemed covered by scalding metal.

"Let me go!" she cried, her hands fisting in agony as she writhed. She could feel his presence drawing near, and panic filled her. "Let me go!"

_Never!_ _You are mine…_

"No," Hermione breathed, as for a moment the agony dimmed. Gritting her teeth, she sought for strength and found it. She filled her mind with images of her parents, of Harry and Ron, of Hogwarts.

Slowly the pain and the endless yearning dimmed enough for her to stand, and she inhaled raggedly. She had to move, before Tom found her.

She could feel him still, whispering in her mind, and she ran, every muscle in her body aching and screaming in protest.

She had to get her wand.

Finally she reached a grand set of double doors, where she felt her wand to be, and blasted them apart.

She rushed into a darkened room, the stone walls bare and the heavy velvet drapes pulled across the windows. She could dimly make out the shape of a four-poster bed, away from the fire smouldering in the rough hearth.

Tom's room.

With a sinking heart, she fought to concentrate as she felt his aura draw near. He was so close.

* * *

She rushed across to a chest, and hauled it open and saw her wand, long and slim, amongst other items. She hauled it out, and felt warmth blossom throughout her body when its smooth wood came into contact with her fingers.

She was home.

She felt a surge of dark power just as she swirled around.

"Protego!" she cried, just enough to deflect the Dark curse hurled at her by the furious, dark figure across from her. Both of them were breathing raggedly, as they glared at each other.

Hermione could hear her blood pounding in her ears, its magic singing in her veins, as she felt her soul reach for him.

"You can't run forever, Hermione," Tom murmured, his voice low and husky with desire as he stalked forward. She raised her wand, backing away.

"Stay away. I am never going to give in to you, never!" she screamed, sending a curse his way. He sidestepped it, and summoned his own wand to cast a ray of red light at her. It lassoed around her waist and pulled her forward before she could react, but Hermione fought it. She got her wand hand free and opened her mouth.

"Reducto!" she yelled, aiming at the red ray of light binding her, but it reversed back up the light and towards Tom. He was thrown back, his wand flying into some distant corner, and Hermione gasped.

How did she do that?

Her chest rising and falling as harshly as he, she raised her wand and stepped forward, covering him.

"Are you going to kill me, Hermione?" Tom raised his head, staring at her with crimson eyes. He didn't seem ruffled by his vulnerable position, as he raised himself onto his elbows, and watched her intently. "Why not go that next step? Why not try to kill me, like Phyllida did? Do it!"

* * *

Hermione froze, her arm beginning to tremble. Could she do it?

_Yes…_

So some part of her whispered, a dark part set free by the Pendant. He had killed so many, and she had the power to do it. She should do it, and set the world free from his darkness. For Harry, for Ron, for the Weasleys and Dumbledore, and the entire Wizarding World.

For Phyllida…

But she couldn't. That wasn't part of her, never. She would never kill in cold blood, not when she…

She was in love with him.

* * *

"Do it, Hermione," he whispered, raising himself up onto his knees in front of her. She refocused, blinking wildly as she forced herself out of her thoughts. But still they rose up to choke her.

She was in love with him. She loved the Dark Lord. She loved _him_!

If she killed she would take the final step, and be lost to the Dark forever. If she didn't…how could she kill the one she loved, no matter that she held the power or that he deserved it. That was not her choice to make.

Trembling violently now, she gasped and collapsed to her knees, tears now tracking down her face as she looked at Tom.

At his beautiful face framed by raven hair and crimson eyes that flashed back to emerald green even now.

"I-I can't," she exhaled, and felt her wand slip from her fingers. She bowed her head, agony and self-loathing filling her. She loved him and yet she hated him and the confusion was tearing her apart.

"I know," Tom breathed, looking down on his little witch's agony and feeling it as if it were his own. His Pendant had flared for one tiny moment, when she looked up at him, and such desolation was in her youthful eyes, he felt some unknown emotion take hold.

One he knew he didn't like.

* * *

"Are you going to kill me, like you did her?" she asked in a tiny whisper, her trembling no longer so evident. She seemed resigned to her fate, as Tom watched her inscrutably.

The silence stretched thin, and Hermione felt like her nerves might snap. She wanted to scream, but she stayed mute, unable to move as her eyes met Tom's.

Her heart was heavy with the knowledge she was in love with him. That she was betraying everything she had ever loved before, because of him.

_Harry, forgive me…_

Feeling oddly at peace, Hermione looked up at him, her cheeks still wet with tears.

"Do it," she whispered softly, her mind free of everything now.

"No," Tom growled, and suddenly Hermione was dragged off the floor and hauled against his body, his lips crushing hers. He plundered her mouth, her body limp in his arms until their frenzied desire awoke, and she attacked his mouth as desperately as he did hers.

His hands, free of leather gloves now, slid under her shirt, up her spine, dragging her against him forcefully. He turned her and tumbled them both back, pressing her into the bed, as he kissed her roughly, framing her jaw with one hand.

_You are mine…_

His mind spoke to hers, and she didn't reply, just kissed him back wildly, looping her arms around his neck, ruffling his jet-black hair, as his strong body devoured hers.

Their bond awoke, and for a moment she experienced the sensations of her body through his, and his through hers. It was the most disconcerting, and powerful experience she had ever felt.

It also reminded her what they were doing.

_I will make you mine, now. I will not wait any longer…_

His whisper awoke from their frenzy, and she froze.

* * *

NO!

No matter what, she could not allow herself to become bonded to this man. With every part of her strength, she shoved him off of her, and scrambled from the bed. She snatched up her wand and backed away as he came for her. She muttered a spell under her breath and, gathering her power, turned on the spot.

She Apparated away, breaking through the barriers and wards he had placed around the manor.

Her cry of agony as she did so was only mirrored by Tom's cry of mingled fury and pain as the Pendants flared, punishing their wearers for not completing the bond.

The four-poster bed burst aflame, the angry red tongues devouring the covers, mimicking the flames of pain licking Tom's torn soul.

Hermione landed on cool grass, and bright sunlight falling on her face. Her wand tumbled from her nerveless hand, as she stared blankly up at a green canopy, and felt herself fall into darkness, with nothing but her pain for company.

And _him_.


	16. Beneath A Full Moon

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**Ok even I'm feeling pretty frustrated by now, so prepare for some lemony goodness. Remember just because they may do 'it', it doesn't mean Hermione's going to become a submissive little death eater.**

**Far from it…;) **

**Tom: You know I could help with all that latent frustration, Tory…**

**Me: Down Snake boy. I have a chapter to write.**

**Tom: All work no play makes for a dull girl, hon. Besides you can type at the same time…**

**Me: Tom, it's pretty difficult for me to type while you're-**

**Tom: But you're a woman, you can multi-task can't you?**

**Me: Smart ass.**

**Tom: I know.**

**Me: Go to hell, and let me write…**

* * *

It had been two weeks since Hermione had escaped Lestrange Manor. Two weeks spent hiding in the Forest of Dean, never staying in one place for long, since she was too scared to seek out anyone from the Light side.

She couldn't run the risk, with the bond she carried.

She could feel him in her mind, even now, whispering seductively to her.

Tempting her to come back to his dark embrace.

She wouldn't give in.

* * *

So she lived rough, taking what she needed from the forest, sleeping under the stars. Thankfully the nights stayed warm and dry, but winter was slowly approaching. She would have gone back to Hogwarts soon.

At the thought of the castle, and all it represented to her, Hermione's face crumpled.

It was at times like these that she could block out her dark lover, stop him from invading her mind. He couldn't see where she was, but he could torment her nightly. Occlumency was no shield against him now.

As for the Pendant…

It burnt dully on her chest, a constant pain, as she struggled through each hour, fighting the compulsion to seek _him_ out. To complete what they had started, two weeks ago.

It had nearly been a month, and had Hermione but known it, her time was almost up.

The power of the Pendant grew, eating through Hermione's shields, calling to its counterpart.

It finally won through, as Hermione slumped in her makeshift shelter, exhausted, while she slipped into a fretful sleep.

* * *

It called to him.

Tom's lips curled in a mirthless smile as he felt her call, felt the power of the Pendant.

_Soon,_ he thought, _soon, you'll be mine little witch._

His patience had ended long ago, and now he would claim what was his.

He had only to distract her, just for a little while, until he could sense her location.

So they could finish what they had started.

Two weeks had made him desperate, desperate for her, for her body to ease the almost constant ache in his.

His hand curled around his wand, as he took his place before a mirror, closing his eyes to the reflection of a handsome young man with grey at his temples and blazing emerald eyes, and concentrated.

The mirror would amplify his power, as he infiltrated her mind and called to her subconscious. She would be defenceless, and then…

An anticipatory smile lifted his lips.

* * *

Hermione was dreaming.

_She stood in a cloud of mist, unable to see, so all she could do was hear and feel._

_She rolled her eyes, knowing it for what it was. "Tom, where are you?"_

"_Close by, dearest. Now we will resume what we begun," he drawled, as she spun, feeling his breath tickle her ear, and his voice in her head._

"_I won't give in," she called defiantly, and once again felt his hands on her arms._

"_You will, when I find you, my dear," he breathed, and she shuddered. _

"_Never."_

_Derisive laughter filled the air, not high and cold, but throaty, warm and sensuous._

_Like a drop of hot water trickling down her spine._

"_You won't ever find me. I've blocked you, you won't get near me," Hermione stated confidently._

"_So sure? The Pendant has been working against you, little one. Already it sings to me, calling me to your side," he replied, and she was spun around but he wasn't there._

_Just incandescent mist._

"_Where are you? Show yourself!" she cried out, straining every one of her senses to feel him, but all she felt was nothingness. Her nerves stretched taut, as she spun around and around._

"_I'm so close, Hermione. So close," he murmured into her ear, and she jumped. He was toying with her._

"_Stop it. You haven't found me, you're just playing with me again. Gotten tired of constantly failing to seduce me?" she sneered, whirling to face him defiantly._

"_Not failing, Hermione. Seduction is a long game, with a master and a pupil. I didn't need your corporeal body to wear down your resistance to me, not when I possess your mind and your soul…" he breathed, and Hermione felt a seductive shiver run down her spine._

"_No!" she whispered, but this time it came out tired and almost defeated._

"_Come to me, Hermione. I know you're in pain, let me ease it for you. Let us finish what we've begun," he murmured against her neck, and she felt herself relax into his arms as they twined around her waist. She felt him nudge aside her hair, running his lips down her neck as the pain of being without him dimmed._

_But it would not disappear fully until they were one._

_Her soul cried out for him, as his talented hands began to work their magic, caressing her skin desirously._

"_We belong together, my little one," he whispered, "You were made for me, and I for you. Accept it, embrace it. Come to me."_

_Hermione opened blind eyes, as she thought over his words._

_Then his words truly hit her._

"_You don't know where I am, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to come to you," she mumbled, smirking triumphantly. She was spun around, and faced him for the first time._

_But still there was nothing there._

_Frustration filled her. _

"_Oh don't I?" his voice echoed mockingly now. "Think, Hermione. Use the power bequeathed to you, and see if I lie. You can't really afford to risk it, can you?"_

_She snarled under her breath, cursing him, before she tentatively lowered her shields just enough to sense him._

_She felt his triumph, his lust and his hunger with a gasp._

_NO!_

"_I've got you, Hermione. You can't run from me this time…" his voice faded, as her mind was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of dark power, desire and the call of the Pendants._

_With a cry, Hermione wrenched her mind away from his-_

* * *

A satisfied smile lit Tom's face, as he felt Hermione leave his mind, and the sense of her location ring in his.

He had her, at last!

With a swirl of his robes, he Disapparated , to claim what was his.

At last.

* * *

"NO!" the cry left Hermione's lips, the Pendant pulsating on her chest, throwing blue light over the roof of her rough little shack.

_I have found you, Hermione…_

Her heart pounding, she felt in the leaves for her wand, feeling safer when its warm wood touched her fingers.

But not for long.

"We meet again, Mudblood," at the hauntingly familiar voice, Hermione scrambled out of her makeshift shelter, her hair dishevelled, leaves and earth sticking to her jeans. She peered out in the pitch black night.

The moon came out from behind a cloud, and her eyes fell on the black robed figure before her. Hermione gasped, as the Pendant flared, sensing its mate so close.

At last.

* * *

Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, stood there, smiling urbanely, his wand in hand. His raven black hair gleamed, falling in sinfully perfect waves over his forehead, marblesque skin aglow, his deep green eyes blazing into her brown ones.

They blazed with an inner fire, and Hermione felt an answering fire rise in her.

"Pleased to see me, Hermione?" he asked, his voice low and husky. Released from his gaze she whipped her wand out and tried to Disapparate. A mirthless laugh reached her, as she frowned. She tried again; no luck.

Panicking, she quickly assessed her options.

Why couldn't she-?

Hermione's gaze fell on Tom. She mentally smacked herself on the forehead.

"Anti-Disapparition charm," she breathed, annoyed. Tom's smirk grew.

"Slower than usual, my dear. It is necessary, you have a habit of running off far too easily for my liking," he replied, beginning to stalk forward while Hermione instinctively retreated,

What could she do? Run? Hide? Stay?

Seeing the flames rising in Tom's eyes, she shivered and negated that option.

Without warning, she cast a Stunning spell at him. Tom negligently flicked his wrist, nonverbally Disarming her. Glaring, she watched helplessly as her wand soared through the air, and he caught it deftly.

"Evidently not pleased to see me," he continued, slipping her wand into his robe pocket, stepping forward.

"My heart bleeds it really does," she snarled sarcastically, her mind frantically searching for a way out.

Maybe if she kept him talking, she could distract him until she could think of a way out.

"Why are you here?" asked, her voice wavering. A minute later she wanted to curse herself. What an inane question, not to mention she sounded as breathless as if he had already kissed her!

Get a grip, Hermione!

"We have unfinished business, you and I," Tom replied suavely, his civilised veneer a tiny veil to the bestiality glowing in his eyes. "I've come to take back what's mine."

Recognising the intent in his eyes and voice, Hermione's eyes widened.

"Over my dead body!" she snarled, turning tail and racing into the forest, the heat of a Stunner burning her cheek as it narrowly missed, flying past in a ray of scarlet.

Hermione ran through the Forest of Dean, not looking where she was going, not caring as long as she got as far away from _him_ as possible. But Merlin he was fast!

Hearing the gentle _swish_ of robes, she instinctively dodged to the left, throwing herself on the ground. She looked up and gasped.

Tom could fly without a broom! That was just…cheating!

"Impressed?" he asked, cocking his head, and she glared fiercely at his smug smirk.

"Quite the parlour trick," Hermione snarled, already jumping up and sprinting away.

_You can't run from me forever, Hermione!_

* * *

The mental call followed her, as she ducked into a thicket. Her breast heaving, she let out a frustrated snarl.

_Watch me, Tom!_

_I'll find you, Hermione…_

Ignoring him and the clamours of her own body, she ran again as another Stunner flew past her. She was becoming too good at dodging curses.

Frantically, Hermione tried to access her wandless magic, but it would not flow. She could sense it but she could not use it.

The Pendant of Ravenclaw was burning on her chest, mimicking the scorching flames rising beneath her skin.

"Hermione, I tire of this game. Where are you?" Tom called to her somewhere above.

Hermione felt the tiny nudge in her mind but was unable to shut him out. Their proximity only strengthened their bond.

"As if I would tell you!" she ducked out of her thicket and ran, a flare of black shadow her only glimpse of Tom before a Stunner brushed her waist, knocking her sideways into a tree trunk. She gasped through the pain, up and running again in seconds.

One good thing about hanging Harry Potter for six years, pain and terror were something one quickly learned to ignore.

Except it wasn't terror she was feeling now, her mind spoke up.

_Oh shut up!_ she mentally growled.

_At least one part of you is talking sense…_ Tom's seductive whisper in her mind only increased her frustration.

And her determination to resist.

* * *

But as she ran on, she felt as if her flight was like an aphrodisiac. An indescribable sensation writhed and coiled in her veins, so she could know her own skin. She felt the pounding of blood through her veins; the slap of the tree branches against her arms and waist, the rush of the wind, flapping through Tom's robes as he flew through the forest after her.

The air was beginning to burn in her lungs when she reached a sudden clearing in the claustrophobic forest. This wasn't good…

As long as she stayed under the canopy of the trees, Tom couldn't catch her. If she ran into the open…

Hermione was just about to turn tail and double back when a Stunner hit her in the stomach, sending her flying back and into the clearing.

Stupefied, Hermione stared up at the break in the forest canopy, shining jewels arranged around the great disc of burnished silver that was the full moon.

Suddenly her sight was filled with shadowy robes and dark hair, marblesque skin and emerald eyes.

"Your flight is flown, Hermione. Surrender to me!" Tom growled against her mouth. Struggling fiercely now, the girl writhing beneath his body snorted derisively.

"'Surrender to me'? You really know how to charm a girl, don't you Tom?"

A second later Hermione snarled through gritted teeth, agitation riding her.

She couldn't break his iron hold on her wrists as he imprisoned them either side of her head; his solid weight pressing into her pelvis, anchoring her against the ground.

Her chocolate brown eyes widened when she felt him against her abdomen.

"Tom, let me go," she gasped, fighting back the wave of unadulterated need that rose in her veins at her closeness. His warm breath brushed her lips.

"Never. You're mine, Hermione," he breathed, gazing down at her possessively.

"No-" her denial was abruptly cut short by Tom's lips covering her own, his tongue surging deep into her mouth; possessively taking her all. Groaning, Hermione arched under him, her body beginning to take over.

God had it only been a week since his lips were last on hers? A week since she'd last lain beneath him?

It may as well as have been years. Their mouths, fused as one, were urgent and starving.

* * *

The power of the full moon called to them, setting their blood afire, wiping away all resistance. The Pendants of Slytherin and Ravenclaw glowed, azure blue and poisonous green, in the near darkness of the forest; gilded with the sylvan moonlight. Their owners barely noticed; all of their senses and their minds were focussed on the other.

Tom raised his head, watching his prey's face, her wild hair splayed across the ground.

"You're mine, Hermione," he growled against her kiss-swollen mouth before he lowered his head again, his hands lowering to her jacket.

Desperation lent him strength, as buttons and material ripped under his fingers, their wands lying abandoned on the ground. Hermione, having lost all faculty of communication, merely moaned into his mouth; that same, curious heat she had only felt for real once before, building especially when she felt the hardness throbbing against her abdomen.

She was utterly seduced when she felt that, realised that she had been seduced not by him, but by her _love_ for him.

She was so going to hell for this.

* * *

The Pendants flared, and she stopped thinking, pulling him closer as she returned his avid kiss, her own ardour rising.

She clawed at his robes, pulling them apart, so his bare chest brushed against hers, as they tore off each other's clothes. A month of enduring the bond had driven them insane, so no thought remained as Hermione threw off the last of her garments and pulled herself against his bare body, taking sensual delight in the hard planes of his torso and thighs.

Tom groaned into her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair, unable to think beyond the soft curves pressed against his body. He raised his head and began to kiss down her neck, loving her moans of pleasure as she pressed even closer, her hands caressing his muscles, feeling them tauten under her touch. Kneeling on the soft grass, they explored each other urgently, as he trailed his lips down her collarbone, worshipping her breasts, as she clutched him to her.

Her hands clutched his back when she felt his lips caress her breast, his hands leaving her waist to fall to her thighs, pulling her forward. Soon only a few inches of skin were all that remained from their bodies melding together as one. Hermione's breath stuttered, as Tom groaned and raised his head, taking her lips in a storm of riotous desire. He needed her so badly.

When he raised his head next, his hand left her thigh and followed the curve round, trailing down until it touched her quivering flesh. Her eyes widened, she exhaled on a long sigh as he sank his fingers into her body, pressing deep. She bit her lip, moaning in ecstasy as he played and teased, drawing her along a path towards the stars, pleasure racking every muscle, releasing her tension. Her hands frantically traced his body, ruffling his hair as he assaulted her body with pleasure, until finally she cried out as the throes of ecstasy took her. The forest shivered with her cries.

Shuddering from his own restraint, Tom took hold of Hermione's waist, pulling her against his chest as she slumped in his arms, shaking. She raised her eyes to his, passion blank and afire, before reaching up and kissing him deeply. He returned it, their tongues duelling for dominance, keeping her attention on the joining of their tongues, and his hand leaving her body and rising to her breast.

She moaned, arched into his hold, as he slid her down his body. At the first touch of his body against her inner thigh, she froze and looked up at him through heavy eyelids.

He nudged into her a little, and her breath hitched before her jaw tensed and she slid down of her own accord, little by little impaling herself on his body. A shivered cry escaped her as she felt her body stretch to take him in, looping her arms around his neck to keep her balance as he kissed her passionately.

All thought that this was wrong, that he was the Dark Lord had disappeared. All that remained was how much she loved him, and the pleasure he held just out of reach.

They would become one, at last.

He felt the final barrier to their joining, and thrust through it mercilessly, drowning her cry of pain in his kiss, drinking it in. He held back, for one moment, until he felt her ease before he thrust in all the way. This time when she cried out, it was in pleasure, as he felt their minds meld, until they were one in all ways.

Mind, body and soul.

* * *

He tumbled her back onto the forest floor, driving into her mercilessly, supporting himself over her body while he took her, hard and rough.

Hermione loved every moment of it.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, arching when she felt the heaviness of his body press even deeper, pleasure and heat rising in her every cell.

She raised her head and pulled his lips down to kiss her, sliding her hands into his hair as a curious sensation overtook her.

She could feel everything, all the sensations of him inside of her, and the rough abrasion of the grass against her back as he moved inside of her. Her own wet heat as he thrust into her, the tension driving his body, the strength in his brutal limbs. The moon singing to them, the feel of the rough ground and crushed grass against their bodies, the warm breeze heightening the sensitivity of their bodies.

A feeling of rightness filled her, as she felt her soul and her mind become one with his, no longer alone or separate but one.

Forever.

Her nails dug into his back as she felt release take her for the final time, hours later, as the moon wane and the call of their blood no longer rode them. She felt his body spasm, his own release tumultuous as he collapsed atop her, their cooling bodies bruised and exhausted. Tom had just enough energy to lift his head and brush a soft kiss over Hermione's lips.

Joined everywhere, in body, mind and soul, they fell into darkness.

Just before she succumbed, Hermione's mind was filled with an echoing, silvery voice.

_At last, my Heiress, you have come into your own…_

* * *

**Me: not a bad smut scene, if I do say so myself.**

**Tom: You did say so yourself**

**Me: Oh shut up, before I cut off your wand.**

**Tom: no need to get violent, sheesh…**

**Me: Says the most evil Dark Lord for a century…**

**Tom: Thank you, your point being…?**

**Me: That you can't tell me off for being violent when you cut down Muggles like a house of cards.**

**Tom: I…have no retort for that.**

**Me: Hah! I win!**

**More soon! Please R&R!**


	17. Finally Some Answers!

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

**Me: Ok, so I have two weeks until my next exam so I can FINALLY update.**

**Tom: Yeah, I know how that feels.**

**Me: No you don't**

**Tom: Yes I do!**

**Me: No you don't. The moment you even start to feel frustrated or pissed off, you Apparate off somewhere and torture some Muggles into insanity!**

**Tom: Yeah well frustration is bad for the psyche!**

**Me: You're bad for the psyche!**

* * *

"_Hermione_?" an ethereal voice called to the sleeping witch, as she lay in her soul mate arms, the warm summer breeze washing over her bare skin.

"Five more minutes," she muttered, shifting slightly in Tom's arms, as they tightened around her.

"_Hermione_," it called again, as she gasped.

Hermione sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open.

"Ok, where in the name of Godric am I?" she murmured, turning around and around. White stretched in all directions, with no horizon in sight. There was no sound, apart from her own voice, and no heat, yet Hermione was not cold.

She looked down and realised she wore long white robes, the Pendant of Ravenclaw resplendent on her chest.

Her long hair tumbled around her face, as she moved through the white expanse.

"Ok, think Hermione," she muttered to herself, still turning slowly on the spot. "What happened? The last thing I remember…"

The memories of her interlude with Tom in the forest washed over her, and she groaned.

"Just great, Hermione, you have to go and sleep with the most evil Dark wizard for a century!" she shrieked at herself, feelingly. Yet she did not feel the effects of their bond.

"Why is that?" she muttered to herself. A moment later she remembered she was talking to herself. She smirked wryly. "Hmm, go figure, I'm going insane."

"You're not insane, dear," an ethereal voice she remembered from her dreams called to her, and she spun around with a gasp.

* * *

Behind her was the prettiest woman Hermione had ever seen, not quite beautiful but pretty. She had long shimmering brown hair, loose down her back. Her slender figure was covered by sapphire blue robes, an exact copy of the Pendant Hermione wore nestled on her chest, over her heart.

"You're Rowena Ravenclaw," Hermione breathed, at which Rowena laughed delightedly.

"And you're either very clever or very good at guessing," she murmured softly.

"Well there were two clues that told me who you were," Hermione began, "First, you are wearing the Pendant, which tells me you are at least an Heiress like me, and second your robes are decidedly ancient in design, so you were either Ravenclaw herself or an Heiress from a similar time. There is no reason for another former Heiress to contact me, but I've been hearing your voice in my dreams for some time."

Ravenclaw clapped, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Bravo, my dear, but you must have some questions of your own?"

"Yes," Hermione took a deep breath. "Why me?"

Ravenclaw's face saddened, her eyes seeming to glaze over. "Because you are the last. I have been trapped here, for a long time Hermione. Forced to watch as mine and Salazar's creations tore people apart, tore asunder the Wizarding World. Phyllida and Tom were the last chance, a last chance to unite the Pendants and restore the natural course of order."

"I don't understand," Hermione frowned, cocking her head to one side.

"The Pendants were never meant to exist apart, and our power was never supposed to be split but they have been as no compatible heirs have been alive at the same time. It is their destiny to unite the Pendants forever, but that is not possible anymore," Ravenclaw replied, at which Hermione frowned harder.

"Why not?" she asked.

* * *

Ravenclaw reached out one lily-white hand and traced the gilding on Hermione's Pendant. "Perhaps impossible was the wrong word to use. More improbable, and that is because the two Pendants cannot unite fully unless their wearers are one," she replied, at which Hermione started.

"But we are. Tom and I are one, we've consummated the bond," she replied confusedly. Perhaps her brain was still addled by the events of last night, and the desire which still lay in the very periphery of her mind, but she couldn't see what was wrong.

Ravenclaw nodded solemnly. "Yes you have consummated the bond, but the Pendants will never become one so long as Tom's soul is split," she explained, as Hermione's brow furrowed.

"Split? I don't understand," she muttered, frustrated, but Ravenclaw placed her hand on her descendant's shoulder.

"You shall, soon, Hermione. But know this: as long as you remain under Tom's power you will not be able to control your own. You have to break free,"

"But how do I do that?" Hermione said, uncharacteristic panic filling her at the prospect of not being with Tom. "I love him."

"Yes, and in that lies our hope. But as long as you remain with him, he shall dominate you, and that we cannot allow. You must leave him," Ravenclaw breathed, at which Hermione drew away.

"No! I won't leave him, I can't, he needs me!" she cried out, that fiery desire rushing through her wildly now, building to an agonising peak. Ravenclaw moved forward, and gripped her arms.

"Hermione, listen to me. That is the bond talking now, not you, and you must fight it. Heaven knows it is possible, as your ancestor did for a long time," she told her, holding on grimly as Hermione struggled. "You must do this, you must learn control over your powers and your emotions, or they will destroy us all."

"I cannot leave him," Hermione breathed, tears tracking down her face as she stopped struggled, but she shook with passion.

"You must," Ravenclaw asserted firmly. "For everyone else you love, you must. It will not be easy, but there is hope if you can find the strength to try."

* * *

Sobbing, Hermione collapsed to the ground, but inwardly she _thought_.

Ravenclaw was right, she had to do this, for Harry and Ron, the Wizarding World.

She had to find the strength, she couldn't stay with Tom forever no matter how much she wanted to. Loving him would not change him, or her.

She would not let it.

Dazed, as the throbbing desire melted away, replaced by determination, she looked up into Ravenclaw's affectionately sympathetic eyes.

They were exactly like her own.

"You know, I doubted if one Sorted into Gryffindor could truly be my Heiress, but you have a strength in you no others have possessed. You can do this, Hermione," she whispered, kneeling down as the mists began to recede and Hermione felt herself begin to drift off.

"Is this real, or have I just hallucinated all this?" she called out, holding on for grim life to this reality.

Ravenclaw smirked.

"Oh this is very real, Hermione. Good luck, my dear. When you wake up, you will not remember most of this conversation, but your subconscious shall. You shall awaken in Hogwarts, in your own dormitory," she told her gently. "Do not let your heart rule your head, Hermione. It is great and powerful and gives you strength, but it has the capacity to destroy you. Do not let it. At least not yet…"

"What? I don't understand!" Hermione shouted, as the mists disappeared finally, and so did Rowena Ravenclaw.

"_You will_…"

* * *

That ghostly whisper remained in Hermione's mind, as she opened her eyes, aching and sore, and sat bolt upright.

Above her was the red velvet canopy of her four-poster bed, in her dormitory at Hogwarts. Around her sunlight streamed into the deserted room, as Hermione clutched the covers to her chest.

Then she noticed she was naked, and bruises covered her arms and collarbone, remnants of Tom's rough passion. The Pendant of Ravenclaw shone on her breast, and though she felt the effects of the bond as she dragged herself to the mirror, they did not rule her.

She felt his surge of anger and black rage when he awoke to find her missing, but he was blocked from her mind and she was from his.

_Must be the Hogwarts wards_, she mused, but she just felt inside her own mind for her own mental wards. They were strong and intact, and so she theorised she could resume contact with Tom if she let them down, but she would not.

As she looked into the mirror, at her serious brown eyes and mussed hair, radiant skin and bruised lips, she felt steely purpose fill her.

_I am the Heiress of Ravenclaw, and I will allow no-one to control me_…

She thought firmly, proudly as her chin tilted upwards and an ethereal voice, comforting and as invigorating as a fresh mountain stream.

_You are free…_

* * *

**Tom: hey that's cheating!**

**Me: So sue me!**

**Tom: I can't…**

**Me: You killed the lawyer didn't you? FAIL!**

**More soon!**


	18. Light And Dark

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

I am so sorry for the late update, it's just taken me awhile to get my butt back in gear.

**Tom: That is such a rubbish excuse**

**Me: And what's your idea of an excuse? I'm so cute and clever, so I would never do anything bad? Please!**

**Tom: hey don't disrespect the pure genius that is moi!**

**Me: I'll disrespect more than that in a minute. Or do we have to do some more practice with the Silencing Charm and handcuffs?**

**Tom: I dare you.**

**Me: Don't tempt me.**

* * *

_**Six Months Later**_

It had been almost six months to the day since Hermione had been mysteriously returned to the girls' dormitory at Hogwarts.

So much had changed.

Voldemort's hold over the Wizarding World had only gotten stronger, with his followers openly attacking, killing and torturing across the country. The newspapers were full of false sightings of the now youthful-looking Dark Lord.

While the world focussed on its one hope, the Boy Who Lived now the Chosen One, they had next to no idea another waited in the shadows.

For the past six months Hermione Granger had been sequestered in Hogwarts, while her magic grew more and more powerful.

The power of the Pendant only added to the magic she already possessed, rivalling the greatest of wizards and witches.

She had proven to be a worthy bearer, a true Heiress, her Gryffindor courage and passion lending her the strength she needed to bear the power she held.

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his fingers clasped over his long grey beard, as he gloomily contemplated the fire.

For a moment his cursed hand flared, and he grit his teeth as the pain overwhelmed him, before it faded once more.

Allowing Dumbledore to return to his thoughts, as he remembered the astonishing and somewhat uneasy progress of the young Heiress.

He had been astounded and somewhat disapproving at the change in her, the palpable aura of power clinging to her, and he knew she had consummated the bond between her and the Dark Lord.

To be perfectly honest, he had known the moment she had fallen into his hands that the likelihood of her resisting him, or he her, was not high. The bond relied on proximity, and they could not have been closer for a long time.

Too long.

She had resisted his help, assuring him that she was able enough to block Riddle while in the castle walls. She had proven immune to his manipulations, and he could only hope that the role he had allotted her to play before would still fit her.

It was vital she be there to act as foil to Harry's stubbornness in the months to come.

But being magically bound to the most evil wizard of all time, had she become a liability?

Yet in his heart, he did not doubt Hermione Granger was still Harry's truest friend, and firmly on the side of the Light, despite the flashes of darkness he saw in her eyes.

Perhaps the only way she could bear the burden of power was to be both at once.

Light and Dark.

* * *

Standing alone in the cold, moonlit corridor Hermione Granger reflected on how much had changed in the past six months.

Power was like a tangible presence beneath her skin, sizzling in her veins. She had never felt so powerful, so confident in her own skin. No one possessed the power to harm her.

She hadn't counted on this kind of harm. Harm of the emotional kind.

Upstairs in the common room, Lavender Brown had just kissed Ron in front of her. Hermione had had no idea how much it would hurt to see that, until it happened, even more so when Ron kissed back.

Now, sitting in the corridor, staring out into the moonlit sky, conjured canaries flying above her head, that hurt wouldn't go away.

It wasn't that she _loved_ Ron. That love had long ago dissipated into sisterly, sometimes exasperated, affection; the same way she felt for Harry. But why then did she feel _jealous_?

Was it because Ron could have what she couldn't?

She shivered in her thin jumper, wrapping her arms around her thin body. While the wards of Hogwarts protected her mind, they couldn't do so all the time.

_Hermione…_

She shuddered. "Tom, please don't."

_My darling, it pains me to feel your anguish-_

"I bet it does," Hermione snorted, hiding behind her sarcasm. _If you ever actually felt anything even akin to human emotion, you'd explode…_

_No need for the sarcasm, sweetheart. It doesn't hide how you really feel, not from me…_

Hermione leant heavier on the wall, trying to leech strength from the ancient walls.

…_and it could be so different. Come to me, and you will be worshipped as a goddess. I will never take you for granted, nor hurt you with cruelty. Well, not unless you beg for it…_

Hermione moaned, mentally face palming herself. "Is that all you men think about? Oh daft question."

_Hermione…_

At the achingly familiar whisper, Hermione looked up and gasped. Tom stood before her in all his dark glory, shadowy robes billowing as he marched up to her.

His hands slid around her waist, pushing her against the wall before he bent his head to hers.

"_You _are all I think about…" he growled, before his lips took hers voraciously, hunger sparking in Hermione's heart as their bond awoke, reaching for him. Hermione moaned, and pulled him closer, twining her hands in his robes.

Tom's hand in her hair pulled her head back, baring her neck to his lips, caressing the soft skin with lips and tongue.

Hermione moaned and gave into his seduction, even while her logical mind quickly came up with an explanation.

"This isn't…real…you're just…a hallu-…cination," she choked out between kisses, at which Tom stilled and raised his head, his dark green eyes with a tinge of red watching hers intently.

"Does this feel like a hallucination, my dear?" he asked huskily, bending his head to her lips once more, twining their tongues and making her arch up into his arms, splaying her against the wall.

Hermione had to fight for the will to pull away, shaking. "No, but I also know there is no way for you to get past the Hogwarts Wards," she whispered, licking her dry lips. Tom's eyes darkened, but he only shook his head ruefully.

"That's my clever little witch," he murmured, inclining his head to hers once more…

"Hermione?" a familiar voice asked cautiously, and she jumped. In a flare of shadow, the image of Tom faded as she shivered, closing her eyes.

_It could be so easy, Hermione, just come to me…_

_I can't…_

* * *

Hermione's heart convulsed in agony, as love for that evil bastard flared up, eating away at the bonds of her resistance.

Hermione turned her head, as she sank back to the stone step on which she had been sitting, the canaries still flying around her head, to find Harry standing before her, concern and pity in his vivid green eyes.

_You won't be able to fight me forever, Hermione…_

Tom's last insidious whisper shivered in her ear, as the tears came thick and fast now, her body taut with sweet, painful longing.

* * *

_One Year Later…_

Memories of that hallway filled Hermione's mind, as she fell backwards through the air, Tom's words coming back to her in a rush, as their eyes met before she Disapparated with dead weight of Harry in her arms.

_You won't be able to fight me forever, Hermione…_

Her eyes remained trained on his as she turned into the air, disappearing from Godric's Hollow, as the disguise of a frumpy, mousey-haired woman fell from her.

Tom's enraged shriek of rage rang in her ears, even as she landed on soft ground with Harry's heavy weight digging into her side.

Only one thought remained in her head.

_You won't be able to fight me forever, Hermione…_

He was right, she couldn't fight anymore.

Dumbledore was dead, her parents no longer remembered they ever had a daughter, and she and Harry were on the run from Tom and half the country, looking for Horcruxes.

The reason why Tom's soul was not whole, and why their bond was not complete.

A part of her was secretly relieved, another cried out in pity for Tom. Although it was his own doing, murdering so many people, but she could not but feel Tom's life was not entirely his fault.

If his mother had lived, who knew what could have happened.

Now she knew what she had to do.

She also knew what she was about to do was inevitable.


	19. Equals At Last

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

Panting heavily, Hermione stood shakily, still trying to comprehend exactly what had happened as her Pendant burned incessantly on her chest. It was like a drumbeat, inciting a sense of urgency within her, making her movements swift and hurried.

The pale moonlight glowed around her, as she rolled Harry over, checking his unconscious body for wounds.

The blasted Horcrux was stuck to his chest, burnt into the skin beneath his ruined shirt, as well as a snake bite which was bleeding copiously. Digging for her beaded bag, she Summoned the tent and with a flick of her wand, it sprang into place. Leaving Harry on the grass, she realised where she was.

The Forest of Dean.

Shivers took her as she remembered the last time she was here, with Tom.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of the need to help Harry first, before she did anything else but the Pendant continued to burn relentlessly on her skin.

"_salvio hexia…protego totalum…repello Muggletum…Muffliato…protego horribilis…cave inimicum,_" she chanted, feeling a rush of power as the magic left her body. She felt the strength of her wards spring up with a satisfied sigh, feeling exhaustion begin to take hold.

Merlin, she was tired.

* * *

The moment the last wards snapped into place, she used a Hover charm to get Harry into bed before kneeling beside him. She bit her lip as she looked at the Horcrux singed into place, and wondered how she was going to get it off.

The chain was so tight it was almost choking him, and Harry was in enough trouble as it was.

Hesitantly, she touched it and recoiled when the flash of heat smashed into her and rippled down her spine.

"You git, Tom," she snarled under her breath, remembering the last months of hell wearing the locket, hearing his voice whisper to her so seductively, haunting her dreams.

Shoring up her mental wards, Hermione cautiously stretched her mind out to the darkness she could feel emanating from the locket. She had known in her gut, had known from the start that going to Godric's Hollow was stupid, that it was sure to be a trap but Harry would not listen to her, as much as she couldn't blame him.

_Because they never listen to you, do they, dearest? Never stop to think that you are always right…_

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. It had already started.

_You've clearly been separated from the rest of you for too long, if that's the best you can do!_

And with that half-hearted retort, she called on the power of her birthright, easing the Horcrux's hold on Harry by force, tearing its tendrils from his mind and body, until his incoherent murmuring stopped and she was able to slip the locket over his head. The Polyjuice Potion had worn off by now, and she could her body stretching back into its original shape, her best friend morphing in front of her.

* * *

She turned to her bag, pulling it towards her. "_Accio_ dittany!"

Once the little glass vial was in her hand, she unstoppered it. She Summoned a basin and a water bottle, using a jar of her specialty blue fires to boil it while sprinkling dittany into it. Once the solution was ready, she took a cloth and washed Harry's snake bite until it was clean and the basin was full of bloodied water.

Harry wasn't mumbling quite so much anymore, as she cleaned sweat off his forehead, before removing his shoes and socks, and drawing the duvet over him tightly.

She hung the Horcrux on the bed post, placing a Dark Arts charm on it first so no-one could touch it, before turning back to her friend.

She hesitated, as years of lying to her best friends began to catch up with her.

Dumbledore had always been insistent that she never reveal her true heritage to Harry and Ron, nor her bond with Lord Voldemort. The lies had eaten her up for the past year, and resentment flared whenever she thought about it.

And now she was going to have to lie once again.

She extended her hand over Harry's forehead, just brushing his jet-black hair before chanting again and again in a long dead language, putting him into an enforced healing trance which would keep him asleep for at least three days. His breathing deepened as she stood and blew out the small candle she'd lit to work by, and retreated to change, wash and heal her own wounds.

As she looked into the cracked mirror in her area, looked at the wild, trailing hair and the obvious signs of living rough in her face and eyes, Hermione felt a pang of angst as she remembered the young, innocently naïve girl she had once been, with the big teeth, bigger hair and even bigger brain.

She slipped her cloak on, and stole from the tent silently, pausing outside to set a nasty Dark Arts ward over her previous ones, feeling no qualms in doing so.

* * *

The beauty of it was that she had managed to modify it so it would read an intruder's intentions through Legilimency before wiping their memories and incapacitating them. The spell had an almost sentient aura to it, making its Legilimency hard to fight, even for masters.

It had taken Hermione months of practice before she got it right, and then modified it enough for it to be safe. She didn't care how Dark the spell was, if it saved their lives.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she breathed, flicking her hood up before she Disapparated.

* * *

Tom let out a scream of pure rage as he saw the dumpy couple fall and twist through the air, disappearing into nothingness.

So close…so close to having both the boy and his Heiress in his grasp once more!

So close…

His entire body ached for her, the Slytherin Pendant on his chest burning incessantly. His hands curled into fists on the smashed window sill, Nagini slithering to his feet.

_And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda's house, immersed in memories of his greatest loss, and at his feet the great snake slithered over broken china and glass…he looked down, and saw something…something incredible._

He bent down to it, picking up the fractured photograph, feeling triumph rise at last. At long last, he had found his mystery thief…

It distracted from the relentless longing in his every cell, the deplorable weakness racking his torn soul. Tom picked up the photo gingerly, beckoning his dear Nagini close before he Disapparated.

* * *

The moment he Apparated into Lestrange Manor, his followers scurried to his side.

"Rookwood!" he barked, the mouse of a wizard hurrying to his feet. He shoved the photograph into his hand. "Find this man. I want his name and location immediately!"

"Yes, Master. Of course, Master," Rookwood took the broken frame gingerly, before rushing away in a swirl of dark robes. Not sparing a glance for his followers, he swept away.

A few hours later, and still nothing. Tom tried not to snarl through gritted teeth, quashing the urge to just _Crucio_ Rookwood into insanity for being so damnably stupid and slow. After all torturing the man, while satisfying, was not productive. One could not search for someone while screaming in agony.

Nagini slithered around the room behind him, hissing softly to herself. A full moon hung in the sky above them, as he looked out and remembered that night under the stars, when he and Hermione had finally consummated their bond.

Something had gone wrong, he knew it. She shouldn't have been able to leave him like she did, she shouldn't have been able to shut him out of her mind and body.

He should have been aware of her location at all times, but apart from her last year at Hogwarts, he could sense nothing from her. And even then, he had only known she was at Hogwarts due to the wards he could feel protecting her mind, except for that one time, when her emotions had gotten the better of her.

But now…it physically _hurt_ not to have her, here by his side, where she belonged. And in the depths of his tortured soul, he didn't know how to understand why.

He inhaled slowly, willing those infuriating emotions, so beneath the Heir of Slytherin, away.

Until he felt it.

Deep in his mind, a barrier came down and he could _feel _her, sense her. He felt her heartbeat like his own, a visceral pull across the country.

The Pendant flared on his chest, and he struggled not to give into its call. Somehow he doubted she was giving in.

But the triumph he felt when he sensed her anguish, her longing could not be denied.

_Tom, come to me. Please…_

A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. Let it not be said that Lord Voldemort did not know how to reward those faithful to him, as Hermione would be after he taught her a few lessons in obedience and loyalty.

She was his.

Closing his eyes, he sought her out, his mind searching over the country for hers, like a bright light drawing him in.

There!

He opened his eyes, to his reflection in the window, his red eyes fading to their once habitual green, stark in his otherwise youthful face.

With a leonine grin, he Disapparated from Lestrange Manor.

* * *

Hermione looked out at the full moon from the bedroom of the secluded, deserted house she had broken into. With her power, it had been child's play to freeze the Muggle burglar alarm and place a Muggle Repelling Charm over the site, to keep anyone away for some time.

She felt his dark presence draw near, that shadowy power reaching out to her, making her shiver.

He had heard her.

Now there was really no going back. Hermione shivered, when she felt him Apparate into the room but didn't move from her position by the window.

Neither moved, separated by air and furniture, his eyes boring into her back, as she fought to repress the desire rising between them, like liquid ripples shivering over her skin.

"Hello, Tom," she murmured.

"Long time, no see Hermione. I deduce that that ill-thought visit to Godric's Hollow was not your idea?" he replied silkily, desire raging against the bonds he held it under at the sight of her, implacable and calm in the icy moonlight.

"Nope. Not at all," she shook her head, her long hair now reaching to the small of her back from long months on the run. She still didn't look at him.

"Where is Potter?" he asked, commandingly. She didn't answer. "Answer me, Hermione!"

"I told you a long time ago, Tom, I am not going to betray my friends," she replied coolly, her impenetrable back almost goading him.

"Look at me, Hermione!" he barked, beginning to lose control. Concentrating, he tried to feel his way into her mind, sure it would be easier with her in such close proximity to him but the moment he did, his mental probe was thrown back at him with force enough to send him stumbling. He caught himself in time, blinking away stars as he gazed in surprise at his Heiress.

At that Hermione decided to turn around, deigning him with an almost superior look, aggravating Tom beyond belief. "You can't overpower me anymore, Tom."

"You've grown, little witch. I underestimated you," he growled, eying her narrowly. She sighed wearily, unfolding her arms as she placed her wand on a side table.

"So will you try to kill me now, Tom? Now you know you have a rival in power?" she asked, almost emotionlessly. It made an odd pang shoot through Tom as his Pendant burned on his chest, demanding contact now.

"I would not kill you before, and I shall not do so now. Is that all you…called me here for? To prove your equality to me?" he asked with a sneer, and a slight awkwardness in acknowledging her power over him. He was Lord Voldemort, no one and nothing ruled him. No one held the power to.

Except her.

And that was unacceptable.

* * *

Hermione's hazel eyes all but blazed with power and passion, as she left the window and walked closer, her lithe little body concealed beneath the loose jumper and jeans she wore. He could see the sapphire glow of the Pendant of Ravenclaw through the thin material.

She walked until she was almost nose to nose with him, her face unreadable. She was his equal now, not his inferior, and it showed in her confidence and her certainty that he wouldn't do anything to her.

More fool her.

Waiting mock-patiently, Tom stared down into her eyes as she raised one hand and tenderly brushed back a lock of hair, her fingers lingering on his skin.

He turned his lips into her palm, that tiny moment of contact enflaming him after months of nothing, of unadulterated yearning tempered by anger at her escape. He wanted her, now.

"Why did you call me, Hermione?" he asked, his voice a low, husky growl as her breath hitched.

"For this," she breathed, her errant fingers travelling to the nape of his neck and caging it, crushing his lips to hers. Her momentum pushed them back, until Tom's back hit the closed door, their bodies pressed together urgently.

Hermione made a desperate noise in the back of her throat, prying his lips open with hers, shuddering in pure ecstasy as his confident tongue slid into her mouth, dominantly exploring hers. She sank her hands into that sea of raven hair, raking her fingers through its jetty softness. Tom moaned low in her mouth, and suddenly she was forced around and shoved brutally against the door instead, Tom's body pressing needily into hers.

Tonight, she needed to love him, to give him all the love she possessed. She knew it wouldn't replace the lack in him, wouldn't repair the tears in his soul.

When Harry had told her the Horcruxes were the key to destroying Voldemort, she had understood the cryptic message Rowena Ravenclaw had given her, had felt it hit her like a lightning bolt. With Tom's soul so split by his murderous acts and experiments, of course their bond could never be complete.

The only remedy to this was to destroy all the Horcruxes until the only piece of Tom's soul that remained was the one in his own body. But what then?

Regret was the only way to restore that, and Hermione still had no idea how to make him _feel_ that particular emotion, but it was the best plan she had.

She felt the leather gloves on her face, the shadowy robes engulfing her just as his dark power rose up to engulf her, his thin but strong arms clamping around her waist. She took the hint, jumping up into his hold as he turned her and tumbled her down onto the bed before him, standing in front of her panting with his green glittering ruby and black with lust.

Trembling before the force of her own need, Hermione raised shaking fingers to her jumper, pulling it off before unbuttoning her blouse. A moment later Tom's arms came around her and his lips came down on hers, ripping away all care and awareness of the world.

Just for tonight, she could stop fighting how she felt and just love the blasted man.

Love him the way he needed, if she was to save them both, and the Wizarding World.


	20. The Final Confrontation

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

Hermione wrapped a sheet around her bare figure, and crossed from the bed to the window. The moonlight draped her form as much as the thin material did, as she gazed out over the somnolent landscape, the prone body in the bed behind her sleeping more peacefully than he had done for decades.

A soft, bittersweet smile spread across Hermione's face as she looked back at her lover's sleeping face, lashes dark against his marble cheek. The weight of her Pendant was heavy around her throat, a comforting, familiar weight, one that reminded Hermione of all that was on her shoulders.

Really, what was she doing? Her plan to help Harry destroy all the Horcruxes, in the vain hope that she could restore Tom's soul, with no knowledge of how to do so, was so dangerous and ultimately, too unpredictable. How could she make Tom feel the regret he needed to rebuild his soul? Would he even want to?

Or was the pig-headed Slytherin too set in his ways and his hatred of Muggles to ever change?

Would it even be right to? After all he had done, to her, to her family, to Harry and Ron and the entire Wizarding and Muggle Worlds alike, why was she saving him?

_Because you love him…_

Hermione sighed. That was the crux of the matter. She loved the snake far too much to let him die, his poisonous and addictive passion flooding her veins with every glance. She was sunk, with no hope of absolution.

What was it about the Dark that attracted one so? Made one risk everything, set such fires beneath one's skin as to drive them insane? Ultimately all it would do was crush you.

And your heart. Even if she saved Tom's soul, what future lay ahead for them? If they united the Pendants, who was to say they wouldn't turn dark, and then there would be a Dark Lord and Lady in town.

Somehow Hermione could not imagine Tom ever settling down into a job at the Ministry, punching out a few kids, the whole white picket fence and dog thing. Did she even want anything like that?

_No_.

She couldn't imagine herself like that anymore than she could imagine him like that. These past few years had changed her irrevocably, and she could never return to who she had been. She didn't want to.

Once again Hermione began the long fight which inevitably ended in her leaving him, going back to Harry, to continue their own war against Voldemort.

Because that was what they were. Soldiers, in a war, and she had to put aside her feelings, her love, to do what was Right.

She would return to Harry, find and eliminate the Horcruxes and then Voldemort would die. She had to do it, no matter that when that jet of green light hit him, he would take her with him, at least in soul, if not in body.

Sighing, pushing her thoughts away in favour of action, Hermione dressed by magic, and cast a non-Verbal sleeping spell on her dark lover, running her hand through his hair one last time, before turning and Disapparating into the night.

* * *

Tom awoke to a surprised yell and a scream, as a bearded Muggle shielded his wife at the same time as glaring at him thunderously.

"What are you doing in our house!" the impudent parasite screeched, as the woman rushed for the door.

"I'll call the police!"

Tom realised within moments that Hermione had left him once again, and sighed heavily. That woman was bloody aggravating!

The Muggle was still gesticulating, as Tom swept up his wand, and lazily pointed it at him.

"What are you-?"

"Avada Kedavra!" Tom cried, striking down the Muggle without thought. He clothed himself by magic, and only stopped to kill the hysterical woman before Disapparating, to contemplate the highly annoying antics of his Heiress and return to his search for the Elder Wand.

* * *

For Hermione, time passed all too quickly. Ron came back, triumphant, with the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and a bedraggled Harry by his side, the locket gone forever.

They narrowly avoided capture by Death Eaters when Xenophilius Lovegood betrayed them, and then Harry became obsessed by the Deathly Hallows.

And then Harry said Voldemort's name, invoking the Taboo and bringing the Snatchers down on their heads, and imprisoning them in Malfoy Manor.

The scars left by Bellatrix Lestrange still glared on her arm, a deep, angry red, spelling 'Mudblood'.

They broke into the Lestrange vault, destroyed the last two Horcruxes and now there was no time. Hermione had become so focussed on destroying the Horcruxes, she had not thought of what to do afterwards.

And now Harry was dead.

Hermione could barely believe what she was seeing, as she, Ron and Ginny rushed out onto the front steps of Hogwarts, Tom's words still echoing in the air, impossible, dreadful words-

But it was true. Behind Tom and his phalanx of Death Eaters stood Hagrid, holding a deathly still Harry in his arms and sobbing with grief.

Harry was dead. She had failed.

* * *

Neville tried to fight, tried to rush Voldemort, but before she could open her mouth to warn him, it was too late. He knelt at Voldemort's feet, paralysed but defiant, and she watched in horror as Tom's eyes rose to her, triumphantly.

"And at last, I have my Heiress in my clutches," he hissed with relish, looking more like his old face than he had done for years. Hermione felt her Pendant burn, and shuddered. The others looked to her with confusion, as Tom extended his hand. "Come to me, Hermione, and take your rightful place by my side."

The Death Eaters fell silent with a deadly hush, as everyone stared at Hermione, Ron with horror and disbelief, while Hermione stood as if frozen. Tom's eyes glinted cruelly.

"She never told you who she really was, Weasley?" Tom called, tauntingly. "She never told you what happened when I captured her two years ago? How she belongs to me, body and soul?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Ron shouted back defiantly, but there came another loud bang and flash of light, and everyone fell silent.

"She is the Heiress of Ravenclaw, bound to the Heir of Slytherin in heart, body and soul throughout eternity, descended from the last of that noble house. And she belongs to me," Tom smiled at that last, his eyes settling on his Heiress, his Hermione. Finally finding the strength to shake her head, Hermione stepped back.

"I belong to no one," she murmured, just loud enough for all to hear, and Tom's face contorted with fury. The Sorting Hat atop Neville's hand burst into flame, and they watched in horror as it burnt.

"Come to me, Hermione, or many more will die, starting with your Weasley blood traitors," Tom called over to her, but she shook her head once more. Then all pandemonium broke loose.

Grawp threw himself at the Death Eaters, the Centaurs galloped from the forest and hundreds of people rushed at the defenders and Death Eaters, and Nagini died with a screech of rage from Tom. Hermione felt it in her gut, as the Pendant burned on her breast.

"HARRY! WHERE'S HARRY!" she heard Hagrid shout, but she had no time for alarm, before she was rushed with the others into the Castle, and into the Great Hall, ducking and throwing curses with all the might within her.

* * *

Now her secret was out, she had no need to hide her power, and she blasted back Yaxley with a great blast that sent him through a wall, saving Ron from being hit in the back by a Killing curse.

He turned, red hair flying, almost glaring at her. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked, accusatorily. She swallowed, in that wild moment in the heat of battle, and lowered her eyes.

"Dumbledore," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but another curse broke them apart, just as Bellatrix Lestrange lunged at her.

"I'll kill you, Mudblood!" she screeched, as Hermione ducked and sent back another curse, dancing between beams of light.

"Jealous, are we?" she shouted back, tauntingly. "Jealous I had what you never could?"

"You do not deserve to even kiss his robes, whore," Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "All I need do is kill you and take the Pendants, and the Dark Lord shall have a consort worthy of him."

Suddenly, a jet of red light flew over Hermione's shoulder, as she turned to see Luna and Ginny fling themselves into the fight, the young Weasley nodding once at Hermione, before they duelled Bellatrix at once.

Hermione winced as a Killing Curse narrowly missed Ginny, before Molly Weasley barrelled into the fight, hair askew and wand raised.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" she screamed, as they were forced to step back, and the two witches went toe to toe. Hermione watched, heart in her throat, her Pendant burning. She looked around at the fighting, felt it sink into her soul, as she met the red eyes of her lover across the Hall.

"Please stop this, please," she whispered, putting all her need into her eyes and her voice. "This isn't right."

* * *

Oddly, Tom's eyes did not soften but confusion washed through him, and through Hermione via their bonds, before an exhilarated, keening laugh echoed through the air, and Hermione turned to see Bellatrix Lestrange collapse, dead by Molly Weasley's hand.

Tom screamed in anger, and Hermione tensed, raising her hand to shield Molly but another got there first.

"PROTEGO!" Harry yelled, the Invisibility Cloak falling from him, hale and whole.

"Harry," she breathed, as her best friend glanced to her then back to Voldemort.

"HE'S ALIVE!"

"Harry,"

She saw Tom's hand tense around the Elder Wand, as the two enemies began to circle, and her heart broke. Now two men she loved would kill the other, and she had failed.

She had set out to save both, and had failed both.

She watched in fear as Tom and Harry circled one another, the older taunting the Boy Who Lived, revealing the secret of his survival, of Dumbledore's death, of everything that had happened.

* * *

Love.

All because of love, and that, Hermione realised, was her only chance left. The Horcruxes were gone, and now was her chance.

Tom had never felt love, had only witnessed its effects in others, but unable to feel it himself. But not now.

Through her, she could make him feel love, feel its power and realise his errors. Make him whole again.

She slid her wand away, and prepared to step forward as Harry spoke one last time.

* * *

"Yeah, it did," said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done… think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"

"What is this?" Tom demanded, shocked, as he saw Hermione step forward.

"Please, listen to him, Tom," she breathed, pleadingly.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry hissed, but she ignored him, focussing only on her lover, the blasted man she loved more than life itself.

"Hermione-" Tom began warningly, but she ignored him.

"Tom, I love you, with all my heart," she whispered. "Just as Phyllida did, just as untold billions have loved another since the dawn of Time. The reason our bond never cemented was because your soul was never whole. Only love, and remorse, can do it."

"Love is a weakness," Tom spat. "It did not stop me killing Phyllida, or your great-grandparents, or Lily and James Potter, or the countless others I have killed. It means nothing."

"On the contrary, it means everything," Hermione replied, stepping forward. She took a deep breath, and opened her mind as she had never done before, drew him in despite his resistance and let him see and feel all.

The light of her love, not just for him, but for Harry, Ron, her family, her friends, broke over him like a burning wave and Tom would have screamed, but he was speechless, as he blindly watched all she showed him. All that he had done to her, to those she loved which caused her pain, the bright light sweeping away all objections his mind would have tried to conjure up, and he felt her soft whisper in his mind, as soft as Phyllida's own as she had knelt at his feet, ready to die.

_I love you…_

The pain in Hermione's heart, as she Obliviated her parents, to protect them from him.

The fear, the terror in the Ravens' faces as he ripped away their lives.

Every wound, every tear, every drop of blood given in service of something greater than any power he coveted, greater than all powers, and at last Tom Riddle comprehended his mistake.

He screamed as a new feeling overtook him, and he fell to his knees, clutching his head, an awful, keening scream rising to the ceiling of the Great Hall. He was lost in the agony, as he felt remorse for the first time, dragged kicking and screaming into its full power, unstoppable, irresistible by Hermione's love.

And all he had done to _her_.

* * *

It was enough.

Harry watched in mixed horror and confusion as Tom Riddle slumped to the ground, shaking and screaming, his hands clutching his dark hair, as Hermione let the tears roll down her face freely. Abruptly the screaming stopped, and the Dark Lord's head rose, shaking and panting, his eyes a deep green instead of their iridescent red, and he glimpsed a whirlpool of emotion in them, directed at Hermione as they stared at one another.

The soul of Tom Riddle, reborn.

Astounded, uncertain, Harry watched as Tom's chest heaved in obvious pain, as Hermione stretched her hand out, shaking and crying, before his face hardened, and his eyes flashed, but not red.

They flashed with determination.

He slashed the Eldar Wand, sending Hermione sliding sideways, hitting her head on a stone fragment and slumping unconscious on the ground, as he ran to her.

"Hermione," he breathed, checking for a pulse. Luckily it was there, tangible and strong, but for the blood leaking from a wound in her forehead. He looked up, glaring at the weakened Dark Lord, stood before all in the Great Hall, still panting and in pain. "She loved you. She was trying to save you, and you hurt her!"

"I am beyond saving, Potter," Tom snarled, raising the Eldar Wand. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried instinctively, still crouched beside his fallen friend, the last secret still untold. The two jets, one green, one red, met in the middle, rebounding off each other, as the Eldar Wand flew high in the air, the Dark Lord peacefully watching as death approached, his green eyes locking onto the horrified hazel ones of the witch he could at last admit, he loved.

_I am sorry…_

He sent the final thought down their bond, as she cried out and reached for him, and then the green jet hit him. He fell backwards, hit the stone floor, and Tom Marvolo Riddle, The Dark Lord Voldemort, was dead.

Killed by love.

* * *

**There are still two more chapters to come, so don't give up on Tom and Hermione yet!**

**Tom: You'd better not. I don't particularly like endings where I die.**

**Me: Aww, the big, bad, Scary Dark Lord likes happy endings! Aww!**

**Tom: Repeat that, and I will make you wish you were never born. Period.**

**Me: You do that anyway, just by existing.**

**Please R&R!**


	21. Reunited

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

There had been much to do once Tom's body fell lifelessly onto the stone of the Great Hall.

The bodies of the fallen had been put in a separate chamber, to await funeral, while Tom's body had been put aside somewhere else. The remaining Death Eaters were rounded up and put on trial, most returning to Azkaban, while only the Malfoys were left free, after Harry's testimony of Narcissa's lie to save his life in the Forbidden Forest.

The Snatchers were rounded up, and most were imprisoned, the Imperiused freed and the Ministry rebuilt, Kingsley Shacklebolt named temporary Minister for Magic, and Hogwarts rebuilt under the stewardship of Minerva McGonagall.

* * *

It all meant little to Hermione. From the moment Tom's last words had echoed in her mind, nothing had meant much to her. She had stayed long enough to hear Harry's explanation about the Eldar Wand, before she had quietly disappeared.

She couldn't bear to stay, couldn't bear the disapproving, hostile, even accusatory looks thrown at her, the Heiress of Ravenclaw, from those who suspected she was in league with the deceased Dark Lord, even though Harry had cleared her name, and she was a war hero in name at least.

She couldn't bear to be around her lover's killer. Nor did she want to suffer the fussing, the interference, the forced sympathy and the unwelcome advice when it became known she was with child. Some would shake their heads, others would hiss in disgust at the child of a monster, and others would cluck their tongues in sympathy, wondering if the child was a product of rape.

The truth was for her alone.

Just as the sun set on Summer, her daughter was born, Belinda Raven, with Tom's dark hair and her hazel eyes, unblinking and gleaming with life, and as she clutched her to her breast after hours of labour, Hermione almost thought Tom's sacrifice worth it.

For sacrifice it had been. She had never seen his mind more clearly than when she had opened her own so fully, had seen the decision to choose death for the crimes he had committed, to face his fears, prompted by remorse.

Maybe it was better that way. At least all his energy, talent and vigour was not wasted in an Azkaban cell.

* * *

Two years after Voldemort's defeat, Hermione swirled a cloak around her shoulders, checked the sleeping Belinda one last time, and Apparated from her little cottage buried deep in a Scottish forest, where no one could find her without difficulty.

The power of the Pendant still around her neck allowed her to breach the Hogwarts wards, straight into the Forbidden Forest. Nothing dared approach the cloaked figure who radiated power from her every pore, as she quickly and quietly slipped through the trees, theirs shadows draping her in darkness.

It had been two years exactly since Lord Voldemort had fallen, his followers gone, his evil destroyed by the Boy Who Lived, for those who did not know the true story.

Two years since Hermione's heart had torn in two.

She finally emerged into a clearing, where an unmarked tomb in black marble stood, sucking light like a black hole in the middle of the gap in the trees. Hermione absently remembered the night he had caught her beneath the moon in the Forest of Dean.

She let down her hood, looking down silently at the black marble which shrouded the body of the man she loved so desperately.

At least Harry had insisted on respect for the dead, unlike those who wanted to mutilate Tom's body in revenge. Or maybe it had been protecting those people; if anyone had tried to touch Tom's body, she would have annihilated them.

Now she sat before the black marble tomb, eyes unseeing as she remembered.

"Long time, no see Hermione,"

She froze. Her heart pounded at that familiar voice, oh so familiar and achingly beloved. She couldn't breathe or turn for fear that the voice was just an illusion of her mind.

"Look at me, Hermione," the voice breathed, quietly but irresistibly. Her breath trembled from her lips, as she slowly turned.

"_Tom_," she whispered, the Pendant on her breast shining ethereally, a sapphire star against her skin.

She turned.

Tom stood there, the scant sunlight gleaming off his raven waves of hair, the slight tinges of grey at his temples, the youthful features she had loved so well. His emerald green eyes shone without so much as a hint of scarlet in their depths, his smile crooked and wry as he watched her shock with amusement. The Pendant of Slytherin shone between the folds of the dark cloak he wore, draped over a dark suit.

"I saw you die," Hermione breathed. "I saw the _Avada Kedavra_ hit you. This can't be real."

Tom shook his head, opening his arms as he stepped forward. Hermione edged backwards, mind racing. She didn't know what he…it was, shade, ghost or an illusion but she had to stop it.

"_Reducto!_" she cried, flinging her hand forward as the jet left her palm. Tom deflected it with ease, dashing forward and grabbing her wrist, pulling her against him as she gasped. Struggling fiercely, they fell to the ground and Hermione's body quaked as the physical reality of Tom's body impinged on her hungry senses, where he pinned her to the ground.

Panting, Tom gazed down at her, wild curly hair splayed over the grass of the clearing, her deep brown eyes sparkling with tears, her red lips parted. Unable to resist, he lowered his head, his hunger washing away all resistance as she moaned, and her hands slipped from his grasp to slide into his hair. He cupped her face, relishing the feel of her skin beneath his palms as their tongues met and rediscovered one another.

When they finally parted, Tom shuddered under the look of need in Hermione's eyes, the desire sparking beneath their skin wherever their bodies touched.

"Satisfied?" he growled, as she panted beneath him. Hermione bit her lip, willing back the tears.

"This can't be real. You can't be real," she breathed.

"Can't I?" Tom asked, bending his head to her forehead. "Isn't this real?"

He kissed down her face, following the line of her nose down to her lips, where he paused as her eyes met his, tears trickling from their havens to the hills of her cheeks.

"Tom," she breathed, pulling him to her once more. With shaking fingers, she traced his features, before smacking him hard on the cheek.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Tom demanded furiously, pinning her wrists to the ground again as she struggled.

"For dying, you bloody arrogant Slytherin!" she snarled, glaring up at him.

"I did not drag myself back from limbo to be slapped around by you!" Tom growled back, as Hermione stilled beneath him.

"How did you come back?" she asked, in a trembling whisper. Tom's face darkened, as he slowly sat up, releasing Hermione.

"I don't really know," he began slowly. "I was in darkness. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't feel. I just thought, and I thought. I saw all my mistakes, everything I ever did wrong. I sought power, but the greatest power was right in front of my nose."

Hermione watched him, then cautiously moved into his arms and clung to him comfortingly. Tom held her tightly.

"The link between us stopped me moving on," he continued to explain. "In that moment, when I felt regret, my soul became whole for the first time, and our bond was complete. You saved me."

"I love you, Tom," Hermione breathed, looking up at him. He glanced down at her, and she shivered. He opened his mouth, and looked away, and she was shocked to see how awkward he was.

Tom Riddle, awkward?

"It's alright, Tom," she continued, as he glanced at her sharply. She just smiled. "I know."

* * *

He watched her inscrutably, before grasping her face between his hands. She gasped as he opened his mind to her, and every emotion in his dark mind flowed into hers. She sensed his lust for power very much there, the shadow that represented Voldemort, and the lighter mist that represented Tom. He surrounded and penetrated the darkness, holding it in check. And she felt something else, a feeling so powerful, so stormy and yet both light and dark at once.

Hermione gasped as she pulled herself out of his grip, shaking slightly as he nestled her against his chest.

"Now you know, forever," he growled, low and hoarse as she stared up at him, dumbstruck. She reached up and pulled him to her lips, kissing him hard and urgent. He reciprocated, sliding one hand into her hair, at her nape so she couldn't escape his possessive, claiming kiss.

She was his, and he hers, restored and whole as he should have been. Voldemort would always exist, but Hermione had chained the storm, and now he had another lifetime to live with her, alone, and a death he no longer feared.

"Mine," he eventually drew back to growl against her lips, his eyes dark and lustful. Hermione leant back in his arms, smirking up at him evilly.

"Yours," she muttered back. "But you're mine too."

"Indubitably," he sighed, just as they both felt a pulse of warmth race between them. They looked down to see their Pendants twined together, both shining sapphire and emerald, before they fused with a molten gold, and dropped off their necks. The snake was now twined around the eagle, and it no longer shone.

Hermione picked it up with a gloved hand, looking at it curiously. "What happened?" she mused.

"Our bond is complete. The Pendants are one," Tom frowned, then his forehead cleared. "The power has been returned to its rightful owners."

Hermione looked at him, then turned her gaze inward. Indeed, she could feel the power of the Pendants sizzling in her veins, as comfortably a part of her magic as the power she had been born with. She looked at the Pendant in her hand, and smiled, shaking her head a little.

Just like Rowena Ravenclaw to enchant the Pendants so they could only be united by love, as complicated and dark, and yet light and simple, as life itself. She supposed it was just another lesson to learn.

And they had learnt it.

Phyllida crossed her mind, as Hermione stood, smiling a little sadly and placed the united, now useless, Pendant on Voldemort's grave; while Tom watched her.

It was over, at last.

"The past has been laid to rest," she simply murmured, before turning and walking back to her lover, letting him draw her into his arms. "By the way, you should know that Belinda will probably end up strangling you."

"Belinda?" Tom frowned.

Hermione smiled. "Our daughter."

And that was not the first time Tom would be struck speechless in the years to come.


	22. Epilogue: Seventeen Years Later

I Have Crossed Oceans Of Time To Find You

* * *

_Seventeen Years Later:_

"_He'll be alright," murmured Ginny._

_As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absent-mindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead._

"_I know he will."_

_The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well._

_Or so he thought._

* * *

Harry's breath hissed in pain as that familiar searing feeling flashed through the innocuous red line on his skin. His heart racing, he turned to gaze wildly around, fear rising in his heart.

It wasn't possible.

"Harry? What is it?" Ginny asked, alarmed. Ron turned from watching the Hogwarts Express depart, his eyes wide. Ron had married Lavender Brown, having two children with her before they divorced, Fred and Molly. Both had Ron's distinctive fiery hair.

As his eyes settled on his best friend, Harry's mind flew back nineteen years to when he had last seen his other best friend. Hermione.

Why was his scar hurting him? Why?

He spun around again, this time bumping into two other people. "Oof-!"

"Oh Merlin, I am so sorry," Harry immediately apologised to the youngsters, a woman and a man, both with black hair and pale skin. He met the eyes of the woman's, whose own flicked up to his scar, before they widened in surprise.

* * *

They were chocolate brown. An achingly familiar shade of chocolate brown. Her long hair hung about her in untamed waves, and Harry recognised the robes of a second Auror trainee.

"You're Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, as the man beside her rolled his eyes.

"The scar makes it rather obvious, Belinda," he scoffed arrogantly, raising green eyes to Harry's own, making him shiver. His manner, the way his hair fell in soft waves against his pale skin, and the cool intelligence in his eyes made Harry's heart sink even as his brow furrowed in confusion.

His scar pained him for the first time in nineteen years, and now here were two people who reminded him of his former enemy and estranged best friend.

"Are you ok?" Ginny asked him concernedly, even as she paled when she looked at the young man.

The boy was a carbon copy of Tom Riddle at eighteen, clothed in the robes of a trainee Healer. They were obviously siblings.

"Mum told me all about you," Belinda continued excitedly.

"Your mother?" Harry repeated. "What are your names?"

"I am Belinda Raven, and this is my brother, Thomas," she replied, even as her brother nudged her in the side. "We were just seeing our little brother Harry off on his first year at Hogwarts."

Ron eyed the two in shock. His eyes met Harry's, and they both nodded. Both realised exactly who the siblings reminded them of. Ginny still was as pale as snow beneath her red hair.

* * *

"Belinda! Tom! We're leaving!" a familiar voice called to the pair. Thomas coolly inclined his head and moved away, his robes swirling majestically around him. Belinda hesitated, smiled charmingly at Harry.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Mr Potter, Mrs Potter, Mr Weasley," she murmured politely, before hurrying to join her brother. The steam lingering from the departure of the Hogwarts Express cleared enough for the trio to see the siblings join another pair, and Harry shivered as his scar twinged again, though less painfully than the first time.

"Well, that was weird," Ron muttered, already turning away nonchalantly. "You alright, Ginny?"

"Yes, fine," the younger Weasley breathed. "Fine."

The other two moved away, towards the exit but Harry lingered, unconsciously expectant.

He squinted, as the fog cleared, enough for him to see a sight to make his blood run cold.

* * *

Next to the clone of Tom Riddle and the achingly similar-to-Hermione woman, stood two people. One was tall, pale, dark-haired but with grey at his temples, his dark robes swirling around him, an older version of his son. The other was a graceful, slender woman with long, bushy hair and warm eyes, the same as her daughter's, her red cloak flowing behind her.

Hermione.

She was older sure, but she was still recognisable as the girl who had always stuck by Harry's side through thick and thin.

Tom Riddle's eyes pierced him, and he winced. He wasn't sure why, since he no longer possessed a fragment of his soul within him; perhaps a residual whisper of the connection they once shared?

With slight alarm, he watched as Tom glanced at his son and daughter, then at Hermione before gesturing to him. Alarm was writ in every gesture of his graceful hands and every line of his handsome face. Hermione placed a calming hand on his sleeve, before turning to look at him.

Without stopping to think about the consequences, Harry stepped forward to meet them, at the summons in his old friend's eyes.

* * *

Hermione watched as her oldest friend began to walk to them, aware of the tension singing through her husband's body.

"You're too trusting," Thomas threw at his older sister, as she glared at him from the corner of her eye.

"_**That**_ you get from your mother," Tom growled. Hermione still hadn't released his sleeve.

"Behave, all of you," she hissed warningly, the aura of her power rising to complement Tom's own, making her children shiver. Both were powerful, but neither could match their parents. Yet.

* * *

Harry felt it as he stopped a reasonably distance away, his hand twitching for his wand. It made every hair on his body rise, like static electricity was sweeping his body. Looking into Hermione's dark eyes, he saw the flash of power and felt fear seep into him, cold and dead. Her eyes flashed with sadness this time.

"Hello Harry," she breathed. Harry glanced at Tom, and let his anger and his confusion out.

"How?" he asked in a cold whisper.

"Careful how you speak to my wife, Potter," Tom drawled coolly. "There is a part of me which would very much like to kill you now, but there are children present…"

For the first time, Harry became aware of a little seven year old girl, clinging to Hermione's robes, her bushy brown head buried in the crimson fabric, deep green eyes peering up at him curiously, making his heart lurch.

With an effort of will, he returned his gaze to Tom defiantly. "Never stopped you before," he snapped. Tom merely raised an eyebrow arrogantly.

"Men," Hermione sighed exasperatedly, before swatting her husband on the arm. "Tom, stop baiting him. Thomas, Belinda take Rose and go home."

With a nod, Belinda took the little girl in her arms, as she innocently raised a hand to wave at Harry, before the trio Disapparated.

Harry stared.

"That's not possible. No one can Apparate through the wards here," he gasped, as Tom shook his head.

"Do try to keep up Potter," he murmured, as Hermione started to explain.

"Descendants of the Heirs of the Founders can be held by no ward known to wizard kind. We're too powerful," she told him cautiously, as he returned to look at the pair, dumbstruck.

"How?" he repeated his first question again.

"Simple. In the moments before the Killing curse rebounded on Tom, I used our mental bond as Heir and Heiress to make him feel love, and all he had done to us. It led to regret, and the restoration of his soul," Hermione murmured, unknowingly slipping into her know-it-all voice Harry had heard so often at Hogwarts. "His soul restored, so our bond was completed. But Tom couldn't die while connected to me, and vice versa, so he was stuck in some kind of limbo before returning to this plane. And here we are."

"Why, Hermione?" Harry breathed, shaking his head, inwardly wondering where Ginny had got to. "He's Voldemort. He tried to kill us, made you Oblivate your parents, kidnapped you and he hates Muggleborns. Why?"

Hermione winced. There was no anger in Harry's voice, just disappointment. Tom moved slightly closer to his wife, his presence comforting her.

"I don't think you have the right to question anyone's decisions, Potter," the older man snapped. "Particularly not when you just abandon her to raise a child alone, in grief and isolation-"

"She didn't tell me!" Harry exploded, glaring at the woman before furiously. "She told no one, not me, Ron, Ginny, Molly, no one! She just disappeared!"

"I had no choice!" Hermione snarled, her magic awakening with a fire that Tom delighted in. The fire to his ice, light to his dark. "If anyone knew of Belinda, they would have assumed it was rape, and she would have been taken from me. I was already ostracised, Harry, and you didn't see!"

"But why?" he retorted. "Why? Hermione?"

"Because I love him," she replied coolly. "So what are you going to do about this revelation? You'll find no records of Tom, or even my ancestress. All who might remember Tom's original appearance are either dead, or too old to truly recall. What will you do, Harry?"

"I don't know. I should take you both into custody, but I guess you'll just knock me out or kill me?" Harry sighed, looking at Tom. The older inclined his head.

"I doubt my wife would be too happy if I killed her oldest friend. For some reason, she still seems to care for you, although for the life of me, I can't see why-" he retorted cruelly, but Hermione cut across him.

"Darling, enough with the insults, or you're going to be trouble," she gestured airily with her hand, and Harry was surprised to see a look of trepidation cross Tom's handsome face. Clearly, Hermione held her own in this twisted relationship.

"How do I know you won't go back to your old ways, soul or no soul?" he asked, his fear dying down a little.

"You can't," Tom raised an eyebrow, as Harry bristled. He sighed. "But if you must poke your nose in, Potter, because I have something worth living for now."

Their eyes met, green to green, and Harry understood. An odd sense of kinship ran between the two former enemies, and although he would never like Tom or forgive him for his crimes, he accepted his right to a second chance.

So maybe he was forgiving him after all.

* * *

"Just don't forget it," was all Harry said, the anxiety in Hermione's face easing, just before Ginny's voice rang across the platform.

"Harry?"

He looked to his wife, eyes wide, but when he looked back, Tom and Hermione were gone.

* * *

He sighed, as the strange encounter ran through his mind one last time, before he turned and walked back to his wife and best friend, his mind still on the couple who had vanished without a sound, the platform all but vibrating with their power.

He too had his own life to live.

* * *

Hermione stood at the marble railing of the balcony overlooking a lake, the sun's setting rays painting her skin a fiery gold. Tom watched her from the doors to their bedroom, knowing her mind was hundreds of miles away, and hours before, on their difficult encounter with the Potter boy.

Inwardly, he considered his own feelings towards the boy. Oddly enough, no murderous impulse rose up anymore, just disinterest. That was good, he supposed.

Hermione felt her husband's presence, and smiled, although her eyes were closed. "I know you're there, Tom," she whispered, just before warm arms slid around her waist, clasping her tightly like the coils of a snake's embrace.

"And I always will be," he breathed seductively against her neck, making her shiver. She opened her eyes and turned her eyes to his, their lips meeting with practiced precision, but the need between them had not even come close to dying down after seventeen years of life together.

And it never would.

The couple kissed feverishly, as below, in the rays of the setting sun, Rose Raven happily hissed in Parseltongue to a brilliant green boa constrictor, a brilliant gold phoenix watching over her from the branches of a tree with wise, happy eyes of the most brilliant blue.

* * *

Several weeks later, Harry received a letter from his son, one which made him chuckle ruefully. He tucked it away, and never showed Ginny, nor Ron.

Somehow, he felt this was for him alone, a sign of the past finally dying in the future of their families.

_Dear Mum, Dad and Lily,_

_School's going ok, brilliant in fact. Transfiguration's cool, DADA is wicked but I _hate_ Potions._

_There's this one kid who helps me out a lot, and I like him. He's called Harry too Dad, and people think we're twins because we look alike. But his hair doesn't stick up like mine and yours does, Dad. He's in Gryffindor too, and we're going to try out for the Quidditch team in second year. He says he wants to be lead chaser, but I want to be Keeper._

_Although he can be a bit annoying. The other day in charms I was having trouble with the Wingardium Leviosa spell, and he snatched my wand away and told me I was doing it wrong._

_Apparently its Levi-O-sa not Levi-o-SA._

_Anyway, Professor Longbottom sends his love, as does Hagrid. James got into trouble again, but you probably already know that. Something about enchanting the chandelier to sing that song off the end of that Muggle film Mum and Cousin Victoire love watching. The one about the ship that ran into an iceberg._

_He just got detention, again. I think he's trying to break Uncle George's record for bad behaviour at school. _

_Anyway, I'll write more soon, I have a mountain of homework to do and Harry's already nagging me. Reminds me of that friend you used to tell me about, Hermione?_

_Wonder if they're related? _

_Love you._

_Albus._

* * *

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, two dark haired boys with identical green eyes smirked at each other, as one drew a scrap of parchment from his robe pocket, and tapped it with his wand.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he intoned, making the other laugh. As soon as the ink stopped spreading, he turned to his companion with a devilish grin. "Where to, Harry?"

"You decide, Al," Harry Raven, son of the former Lord Voldemort and Hermione Granger, smiled at his newfound friend, and followed him on whatever mischief they might make tonight.

After all, they had a record for mischief to break, first set by a group of four friends, then matched by two red-haired twins. Now it was the next generation's turn.

As Albus tapped the Marauders' Map, leading Harry down a corridor to a secret passageway, the moonlight silvering their dark hair.

_Mischief managed._

_**The End**_

* * *

**Me:** Well that's that. Done and dusted. Thank you for all your reviews and support-

**Tom: **You called him Harry.

**Me: **What?

**Tom: **You called my son Harry.

**Me: **And?

**Tom:** YOU called MY son HARRY!

**Me: **So? Your point is?

**Tom:** Ok, that's it. I'm going to have to call him Harold now.

**Me:** What's wrong with Harry? It's a good strong name.

**Tom glares at me. I roll my eyes.**

**Me:** For the last time, I will say one word. Men.


End file.
